


Total Anarchy of the Heart

by Otakupunk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Also some guilt issues, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, And I do mean slow build, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Racism, Racist Language, Slow Build, Suicide Attempt, basically a lot of mental problems to go around, especially Armin, i forgot about that, oh and Eren is 21
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 96,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otakupunk/pseuds/Otakupunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin Arlert has not had it easy. Between being bullied, living with an overbearing father, and the death of his mother at a young age, he's got a lot on his mind. His only respite is the band he has formed with his best friend, Mikasa - which he must hide from his father, who despises rock music. He wants to travel with his band, but if that's going to happen without him being discovered, he needs a miracle.</p>
<p>That miracle comes in the form of Eren Yeager. Enthusiastic, persistent, hardworking, a talented cellist - as well as homeless, suicidal, and searching for redemption. After a nearly deadly encounter at a subway station, Eren joins Armin's band, and immediately works to help them succeed. But as the band climbs its way to local stardom, will the two boys' inner demons stand in the way of their dreams, their friendships, and a bond like neither of them has ever fully known?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is: my first fic on here. Wrote an AU because I'm in love with difficult challenges.
> 
> A few things before we begin:
> 
> \- Everyone has problems. Everyone.  
> \- There will be mentions of suicide. And probably a few attempts of such.  
> \- Some chapters may be named after song titles/lyrics. Because I love spreading bands everywhere, if this is the case, the name of the band/song will be in the end notes.  
> \- Updates will be slow because my inner editor is evil to me and I tend to rewrite as I'm writing.
> 
> That said, enjoy!

It wasn’t anything particularly special about him that drew my attention.

In fact, it wasn’t even that he was very remarkable at all. It was more like a vague curiosity that caught my interest. Or maybe a slight fascination. I couldn’t really be sure at that time.

I saw him frequently on my way home, while waiting for my train to come, the music in my earbuds permeating my brainwaves. I had it on loud enough to cover up the ambient sounds of the crowded subway station. Oh yes, it was that loud… they say that listening to music too loudly can damage your hearing, and I knew that I should probably turn it down to a safer level, but I was perfectly comfortable with where I had put them.

I think it’s mostly because of the way I feel whenever I’m listening to my music. The strength that I got from listening, even if temporary, would have been ruined by the ambient noises around me. I liked to forget about the world, even if it was for a little while.

For most of my life, I’ve heard people say that rock music leads to delinquency—to crime and drinking and drugs. I’ve always found this stance inaccurate. Rather, I have always felt that music itself is a drug of sorts… a mood regulator, something to make you laugh or stop you from crying. Something to comfort you when nothing and nobody else can or will. At least, that’s what it’s like for me. I suppose I can’t quite speak for everybody who listens to music. But for me, music has always been a companion.

Anyway, I’ve gone off topic… as I waited for my train to come, I fell into my usual habit of people watching. I tended to find people rather fascinating... at least, from the outside. I liked to look at them and see if I could find an interesting story to tell about them. I enjoyed making up stories.

_She's a working mother, returning home from an important business meeting to spend quality time with her children and husband... he's going through a really bad divorce, and is on his way to visit his lawyer... that couple is homeless; they've both lost their jobs and are living in a shelter..._

My eyes continued scanning the people in the subway, conjuring up story after story, the music acting as the soundtrack to every single imagined scenario I thought up. At a certain point, I felt a sudden gust of air which pushed some of my blonde hair into my face, and turned to the tunnel; a train had come, but not the one I was looking for.

It was about then that I saw the boy standing there. I startled; he hadn't appeared at this station for nearly two weeks. I had thought, perhaps, that he'd moved or otherwise changed his route, and hadn't really thought much about him since. Hence, seeing him today had caught me a bit off guard.  
Every day that I'd seen him appear here, he always wore the same outfit -- a black wool trenchcoat, a white t-shirt, black jeans, and black Converse sneakers. His hair was constantly unkempt, his bangs nearly obscuring his green eyes.

He was almost always staring into the train tracks, brow furrowed, as if he were looking for something. Sometimes he even seemed angry, rather than just pensive. Whenever someone would speak to him, as seemed to happen often, he was friendly, jovial even, but when they went away, he would almost immediately return to staring into the tracks. He had appeared at the station so many times, and I had fine-tuned my vision of his life so much, that I could have written a novel consisting entirely of my story about him.

I revisited my saga about him as I watched him: _he's a friendly, energetic, yet rebellious young man, a refugee from oppressive parents. He's lost someone he loves, someone he cares about, to a mistake he made long ago, and his pensive staring is the result of being lost in his own thoughts, looking for a way to get them back. He travels sometimes, living off the land and taking the occasional odd job for money. He has a dream that he holds onto tightly, and that his parents don't approve of. All he wants is to prove to them that he can make it, and live well._

I’ll admit it: this is actually also my story, to some extent. Something about the young man had caused me to project parts of my own life into my fictional account of him. I never had figured out what it was that had led me to think this way. Perhaps it had simply been the interest with which I regarded him?

As I continued watching him, his staring became more intense, breaking my train of thought with curiosity-- what was so interesting down there? Had he perhaps dropped something earlier?

He slowly stepped towards the edge of the tracks... way too close, I noted. Something made me step forward as well, slightly closer to where he was.

He peered down into the tracks, his eyes starting to lose their energy, becoming almost dead. He nodded slowly, and closed his eyes.

It happened almost in slow motion. The boy began to lean forward, steadily tipping over the edge of the platform…

I didn't think.

I reacted.

I raced to the other end of the platform, where the boy was standing, pushing through the crowd in my haste (and apologizing profusely as I did so); I managed to reach him in time, throwing an arm around his waist and yanking him forward with all my strength.

The both of us toppled forward and hit the hard platform floor with a smack. I shut my mouth tight, trying not to yelp, for my elbow had hit the hard concrete as I landed. My earphones fell out of my ears post-impact, and I could hear a train slowing down as it pulled into the station-- it seems I had reached the boy just in time. I closed my eyes as both my vision and my mind swam from the pain. I felt myself being lifted from the platform.

"Are you all right?" A voice asked, startlingly close to my face.

I peeled my eyes open carefully, vision blurry from squinting and moisture. Even through this temporary impairment, I could see that Trenchcoat Boy was the one standing in front of me, though I couldn't quite make out his expression.

"Are you all right?" He repeated, with more concern and bewilderment in his voice than before.

"Yeah..." I grunted. "Yeah, I'm alright." I tried to look into his face; my vision was beginning to clear somewhat, and I could make out a mildly concerned look. "Are _you_ all right?" I asked in return.

"I'm fine, sure. Thanks for helping me." My vision had cleared enough for me to perceive the grateful smile on his face, though my elbow still throbbed painfully.

"What were you doing, anyway?" I asked him.

Trenchcoat Boy laughed, "I don't know. I think I might have dozed off."

"You were... asleep? But... your eyes..." I waved the hand of my uninjured arm in front of my own eyes.

He smiled sympathetically at me. "Yeah. It's kind of creepy, isn't it? My friends get kind of weirded out by it too, sometimes. They think I'm still awake, and I'm out cold. One of them calls me Batman." He grinned humoredly at me.

"Oh... well, just be careful next time, okay? You really shouldn't stand at the edge of the..." I inhaled sharply as my elbow demanded my attention once more.

Trenchcoat Boy grabbed it and examined it closely. "Damn, you scraped it pretty bad..." He looked back at my face. "I can get you some first aid if you want."

"No, it's fine... I need to get back home any-- oh no, my train!" I spun around to face the platform; I had relinquished my train when I pulled the boy away from the track.

"Oh, I made you miss your train?" He too had whipped around to face the tracks as well, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Man, I'm sorry... I can take you home if you like, my bike's outside."

I looked at him, considering his offer. It would get me back home faster if I rode with the boy rather than waiting for another train. However, I didn't really know him, and it wasn't generally in my personal policy to take rides from strangers.

Almost as if on cue, he extended a hand to me. "Eren," he smiled.

"Huh?"

"Presumably you're not sure about coming with me because I'm a stranger." Had he read my mind or something? "I could tell you I'm harmless, but it makes more sense if we're just not strangers anymore." I blinked at his hand. I could kind of appreciate that logic. "Come on. You saved my life, let me at least do something for you." I looked up. He was grinning disarmingly at me, green eyes shining.

I smiled back and accepted his hand. "Armin."

 

Eren led me out of the subway station and to his motorcycle, which was parked outside the entrance. It looked old, but still well cared for, the blue body dull with age, yet clean and not completely removed of its luster.

"I don't have a sidecar on it… I hope that’s all right," Eren said, as he got on the bike.

"It's fine. I don't really like sidecars." I didn't really like motorcycles at all, for that matter, but it would have been rude to back out on Eren's offer after I'd already accepted it.

Once I had clambered on, Eren handed me a helmet. "I only have one-- I don't really get a lot of passengers. You'd better take it."

"But don't you...?"

"I'll be fine. I'd really rather not have a passenger die on me if something happens." I could hear the smile on his face.

Feeling a bit guilty, I slid the helmet over my head. Looking for something to hold onto, and finding nothing, I slowly and gingerly wrapped my arms around Eren's waist, prompting him to laugh.

"Armin, I'm not going to break you or anything. You're gonna want to hold on tighter than that if you don't want to fall off."

Taking that in mind, I obeyed, clutching Eren tighter. He kicked the engine to life and soon sped away from the station.

I had him let me off on the corner about a block from my house. I didn't think my father would be home quite yet, but in case he was, I didn't want him to see me on a motorcycle with a stranger; he'd kill me."Have a good night," Eren said to me, putting the helmet on his head, which I'd given back to him after getting off the bike. 

"You ever need anything else, I'll try to get it for you. I kind of still owe you one." He started up the bike and rode off into the afternoon sun.


	2. Chasing Cars

I turned around and began heading back to my house as soon as Eren was swallowed by the horizon. As I walked, I pulled my headphones out of my cell phone and my ears, shoving them in my pocket. I wasn’t quite in the mood to lie to my father about what I was listening to in case he was home early.

When I opened the door, however, it was not my father, but rather my best friend, Mikasa, whom I found lying on the living room couch, reading a book. My father and Mikasa’s were very close with each other, so Mikasa had a key to our house. She usually met me there when I came home from school.

“You’re back kind of late, Armin,” she greeted me, sounding concerned, yet not looking up from her book.

“I… my train got held up.” It wasn’t completely a lie; it would have been held up if I hadn’t grabbed Eren in time.

Mikasa looked up at me, giving me a shrewd look. She wasn’t buying it. I sighed deeply, knowing I had to tell her the truth.

“A kid almost fell in the tracks. I grabbed him, but I missed my train, and he gave me a ride home.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You took a ride from a stranger?”

“It was stupid, I know, but… he didn’t seem like he was going to hurt me at all. And he didn’t, I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Besides, I didn’t want to get back too late.”

Mikasa raised her eyebrows, seemingly scanning my face to see if I were still lying. Finding nothing, she returned to her book after a few moments. “Please be more careful, Armin. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I will, Mikasa. Promise.” I started to take off my jacket, which I hadn’t removed yet. Unfortunately, friction and my nervous system were not on my side at that moment; my elbow didn’t agree with the way I shook my jacket sleeve off, and I inhaled sharply from the rekindled pain.

I heard footsteps coming towards me, and Mikasa had taken hold of my elbow and was carefully examining it. “Your arm…”

“Platform,” I grunted. “I fell down and scraped my elbow when I pulled that kid off the platform edge.”

Mikasa responded simply by taking the wrist of my uninjured arm and marching me upstairs to the bathroom. She opened up the cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide, then turned on the water. She took my injured elbow and ran it under the faucet, gently sweeping it with her hand for any dirt, then applied an ointment from the kit after she had patted it dry. Unwrapping a gauze packet, she applied some of the peroxide to the small cloth and held it to the damaged skin. I tightened my mouth to keep myself from yelping, but ended up with a quiet whimper.

“Hold it down, Armin. I’ll need to bandage it there.” I nodded and placed my hand over the gauze. Mikasa unwrapped a band-Aid from its packaging and used it to tape the gauze to my arm.

She nodded, and I put my arm down. It still hurt a little to move it, but the wound itself stung a bit less. “Thanks, Mikasa.”

She held a hand up, wordlessly dismissing my expression of gratitude. “Jean called earlier; he says we can use his place tonight. His parents are out.”

I knew exactly what she meant. “Great! I haven’t played in such a long time. Let’s go there.”

Mikasa nodded and sent a text to Jean, informing him we were coming. We put on our coats and went up the block to Jean’s house.

Jean was sitting in his bedroom, strumming his bass idly. When we walked in, he spoke without looking up. “Took you guys long enough to get here.”

Mikasa simply shrugged. “Armin missed his train. He’s here now, though.”

Jean hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, we better get started… your dad gets back in, like, a couple of hours, right?”

I nodded my head, already tuning my guitar. “What are we all playing first?”

We played for about an hour and a half, mostly our own songs, though I got in a Lacuna Coil cover, and Jean managed to convince us to play a Linkin Park song.

At one point, as we were taking a break for snacks before the next song, Jean joined me in the kitchen as I was heating up Hot Pockets for everyone.

“Um, Armin…”

I turned to him, slightly taken aback. “Yeah?”

He looked as if he were struggling to find words for whatever it was he wanted to say. Twice he had opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again. Finally he sighed, swinging his arms absently. “Nothing. You play pretty good, though. I hope we get to play live sometime.”

I stared back into the microwave, watching the plate of Hot Pockets spin on the turntable. Jean had been acting strangely with me ever since he joined the band. He would always move to say something, and then never say it. I found myself wishing sometimes that he would just spit it out. “Yeah, me too.”

Mikasa walked me home after practice was over. I pulled out my keys and went to open the door. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Be careful next time, okay?” I already knew what she was talking about.

“I know, Mikasa. I promise.”

 

I saw Eren on the platform again the next day, same as always. This time he was standing a few inches farther from the platform, rather than at the very edge. He had also directed his pensive stare towards the platform wall rather than into the tracks, the glazed-over look completely absent from his eyes.

I looked away from him, getting lost in my own thoughts. I couldn’t help but ponder what had happened yesterday.

He had said that he had fallen asleep on the platform… he sleeps standing up? I’d never really met anybody before who could actually do that. That isn’t even physically possible… is it? I was pretty sure I had at least a basic understanding of physiology, and was sure that you couldn’t sleep standing up.

But then, he could have gone into some sort of mental shut down… maybe a human Safe Mode of sorts? That would account for the faraway look in his eyes…

I felt a tap on my shoulder - my current contemplation instantly dissolved as my body tensed; I felt my heartbeat quickening, my pulse pounding in my veins, and my instincts took over. I turned quickly to face the source of the threat, backing away in case I needed to escape… and found Eren considering me curiously, head tilted slightly to the side.

I allowed my body to relax and took out my headphones. “Uh, hey…”

“Hey.” He gave me a small smile to accompany his greeting. “Armin, right?” I nodded. His smile faded, morphing into a look of concern. “Is something the matter? You nearly jumped ten feet…”

“N-no, I’m fine. You just… startled me, that’s all.” More like scared the living daylights out of me, but admitting that would have required me to give details.  
“Oh, I see… I get that, actually. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I guess I just wasn’t really sure how to get your attention.”

“Oh… was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“Yeah, actually… I was just wondering, do you want me to drive you home again? I still kind of owe you one anyway, and I figure you’ll get home faster that way. I think I heard the announcer say there was a delay…”

I considered Eren’s offer. Part of me wanted to say yes, but at the same time I remembered the promise I made to Mikasa. But then again, Eren hadn’t hurt me last time… and we technically _weren’t_ really strangers anymore…

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I finally decided.

Eren still hadn’t bought an extra helmet. Once again, I found myself sitting at the back of the bike, feeling guilty for having Eren’s only helmet. Once again, Eren sped off in the direction of my neighborhood, with my arms tight around his waist.

 

“I’m starved… mind if I stop for a bite?” Eren said as I got on the bike. This had been the fourth day I’d let him drive me home from the station.

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” It never really took him long to get me home, so I figured a quick stop would be okay.

Just a few blocks away from the subway station was a small, tidy-looking diner. It was there that Eren pointed his bike, and we entered the diner after he parked it out front.

We were approached by a young woman with brown hair tied back in a high ponytail, who waved excitedly at Eren. “Hey, Eren! Haven’t seen you for a while!”

“I’ve been a bit busy lately, Sasha… haven’t had much time.”

“Ah, still on the job hunt?” Eren nodded, and Sasha gave him a concerned look. “You know you don’t have to go through all this work, right? Why don’t you just work here at the diner? The offer’s still open, you know.”

“Sasha, I told you, I don’t know how to cook,” Eren chuckled.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how to wash dishes, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, everyone does… it’s just, I want to know I can get a job on my own. I don’t want to feel like someone just gave it to me.”

“You gotta stop thinking like that, Eren… I’m your friend, friends do stuff for each other. It’s not charity, I’m helping you out.”

“I don’t want to have to need any help,” Eren mumbled, turning his head away from Sasha.

She smiled at him, her expression simultaneously fond and sad. “You’re hopeless, Eren.” Spotting me, her eyes widening slightly, she changed the topic. “You have a new friend with you? I didn’t even know he was there!”

“Oh, I actually forgot about him too; this is Armin,” he responded, gesturing to me. “He kind of saved my life earlier this week; I almost fell in the tracks at the subway.”

“Oh crap… well, I’m glad you’re okay!” She turned to me, leaning on Eren’s right shoulder with her hand. “This moron been giving you any trouble?”

“Well, no, not really…” I glanced around, feeling put on the spot. I wished she would stop smiling at me. It was starting to make me feel anxious.

“Well, don’t you put up with him if he does. He can be a hardheaded bastard, but he’s all right.” She finally turned away, beckoning us to follow her. “Come on, I’ve got a good table for you guys.”

Eren looked around at the restaurant, which didn’t have many people in it. “Lucky us. The place looks pretty crowded, as usual,” he quipped with a smile.

“Oh, you know it. I haven’t had a break all day,” she returned humoredly.

After she seated us and gave us our menus, Eren spoke up. “Your folks won’t be mad if you’re late, will they?”

“It’s just me and my father, actually… he’s not really home much, anyway, so…”

“Oh, yeah, I remember… you’re a latch-key, right?”

“Yeah. The only one who will know exactly when I came home is my friend Mikasa, and I don’t think she’ll kill me as long as I’m not out too long.”

Eren froze at that, casting his eyes downward.

“Mikasa…?”

His expression was at once mournful and nostalgic. I began to wonder what was wrong.

“Eren…?”

We were both distracted from the moment when Sasha came back to our table. “You guys decided what you want?”

Eren nodded. “I’ll have a chili dog with fries. And a root beer.”

I shook my head when she turned to me. “Are you sure?” Eren asked me. “I’ll cover it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine… I’ll just get something at home.” I really did not want Eren spending any money on me.

“I mean it… it’s fine,” Eren said, smiling. “You don’t have to be humble or anything, just get something. I insist.”

“I… I couldn’t…”

Sasha interjected on my protest. “Tell you what, your friend’s pretty adorable, so you’re both on me. Anything you want, on the house. That seem okay?” she winked.

Eren gave her a shrewd look. “I guess I’m okay with that, if Armin is too.”

They both turned to me and I blushed, again feeling put on the spot. “Um… I guess it’s fine with me…”

“Perfect! What can I get for you?” Sasha looked at me expectantly.

“I guess I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich, if you serve them… and some water. With a lemon.”

“Sure do, kid. I’ll bring both of those back in flash.” She returned to the counter, calling as she went, “Connie! I’m gonna need a chili dog with fries and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Right on it,” a male voice returned.

There was a short pause as we waited for Sasha to return with our orders. “Sorry about that,” Eren said, breaking the silence. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“No, it’s fine, you didn’t…” The rest of my sentence trailed off, and I looked in the direction of the kitchen. Eren followed my gaze. “She’s great, isn’t she?” he said, smiling fondly.

“Um…” It took me a moment to catch up with who he was talking about. “Oh, yeah… she seems nice,” I returned. “You two are friends?”

“Pretty much, yeah. We got acquainted a few years back, and just kind of hit it off.”

“That’s kind of nice.” I crossed my forearms on the table and leaned my chin on it, looking down. “It must have been nice to have gotten along so easily.”

“It kind of was. It’s not often that you just get along with someone just like that.” He turned to me. “What about you, Armin?”

I looked up slightly. “Huh?”

“Do you have anybody you’re close with?”

I smiled lightly, my eyes cast back down. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re in my band with me.”

“You have a band?” He seemed to perk up a bit at the mention.

“Yeah… we haven’t been able to play many shows though. We… can’t really find any gigs.” _More like my father would disown me if he found out,_ I didn’t say out loud. “We’ve played a few house shows for friends, but that’s about it.”

“Oh… that kinda blows.”

“Yeah. Maybe we will one day though. It’d be nice to see what it’s like on stage.”

“I hope you get to one day. Which instrument are you on?”

“I play guitar. And I sing.”

“Hm… that’s pretty good. I heard that’s hard to do.”

I chuckled a bit. “It was, at first. Mikasa knew a guy who helped me out, though.”

His eyes drifted down to the table a second time, his expression suddenly melancholy.

“Mikasa, huh...?”

“Do you know here from somewhere?” It wasn’t impossible; Mikasa never spoke much about her past, but she was quite popular in school, so I didn’t doubt that she likely knew maybe a million other people before she met me.

What surprised me more was Eren’s reaction. Had something happened between them, if he did know her?

After a few moments, the look of despondency faded from his face, and he shook his head at me. “Probably not. Her name just reminded me of someone else.” He turned his gaze back to me. “What kind of music do you play?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, told you I'd be slow to update.
> 
> You know what really took the longest with this chapter? The title. The freaking title. I could not for the life of me come up with a title for this, neither on my own or from a song. I just had a really hard time with it. Even now, the current title is a placeholder and might change later. Though I did spend a good amount of time reading and re-reading and deliberating on this chapter, but I've finally decided that it's as good as it's going to get.
> 
> (Okay, there is one tiny edit. A single scene. No one will even notice. Shhh....)
> 
> Incidentally, this chapter's titled after Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. Not for the lyrics, but the mood.


	3. Confusion Is Nothing New

When Eren took me home that afternoon, there was a small smile on my face as I walked back home. I would have to talk to Mikasa and Jean about it, of course, but if I played my cards right… we were about to have a cello player.

He had brought it up during a conversation we were having about rock music; apparently, Eren was a fan as well.

_I asked him, “Do you play any instruments?”_

_“Well…” Eren scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I guess… I play a bit of cello. I’m not sure I’m really that great, though.”_

_And there was my opening. “Why don’t you show me some of your playing sometime? My band is actually kind of looking for a classical instrument player, and cello would probably sound kind of nice with our style.”_

_Eren looked both surprised and embarrassed to be asked. “Well, I-- I don’t know, it might not be good, I haven’t really played in so long, I…”_

_I cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. At least try. It can’t hurt to just get back behind the wheel, right?”_

_“Well, if I crashed, it kind of would,” Eren murmured._

_“At least you tried. No one would blame you for trying… even if you ended up in the hospital afterwards.” I realized immediately what I had said and blushed. “Oh god, I am so sorry, that sounded awful, I just meant…”_

_Eren laughed openly. “It’s okay… I think I get what you meant. Alright, I think I’ll give it a shot. I’ll bring out my cello tomorrow.”_

_“Great! Thanks a lot!” Victory!_

I hummed along to music I wasn’t listening to as I opened the door. I hadn’t really been listening to any music for the past four days; Eren was quite talkative, and I had to keep my earbuds out in order to keep up.

“Where were you, Armin? You’re late again today.” Mikasa spoke as I walked through the door, her arms crossed sternly as she stared up at me from her seat on the couch.

“It’s okay… I was just talking to someone.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Armin, you promised me you’d be careful…”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a stranger… at least, not anymore.” Mikasa cocked her head to one side, confused. “I was with the kid that drove me home that one day.”

She started to rise. “He didn’t try to hurt you, did he?”

“Not at all… he was actually pretty nice. He said he plays cello too… if he plays well, maybe he can play for us.”

“And you’re sure he won’t try to hurt you?”

“Absolutely.” Although I hadn’t known Eren for long, I was certain he was a good person.

Which, I have to admit, scared me a little bit… I had given up on the concept of intuition long ago, as gut feelings can be wrong. They can be wrong a lot. Mine had actually failed me many times in the past.

So why did I feel so compelled to trust Eren?

Mikasa briefly gave me a look, which I interpreted as saying _I will trust you, but if he does anything to hurt you while he’s here, I will rip his lungs out._ This morphed into a thoughtful expression after a moment. “You said he plays cello? Wouldn’t that put too much bass into the music?”

“I don’t think so. I think it would actually sound kind of Gothy… that’d be kind of cool.”

Mikasa seemed to consider this. “No, I think we’re too fast for that. Would a cello even fit in with our sound?”

“I think it could… I mean, most of our influences use violins and cellos and lots of other stuff. People use all kind of instruments, I don’t think anyone would have a problem with the cello.”

Mikasa nodded, seeming to consider the point. “I suppose we could try it and see how it works. Invite him over and we can audition him. I’ll tell Jean about it later.”

“Thanks, Mikasa. I think it will turn out well.”

 

Eren had made good on his word: When I next saw him, he had a rather large carrying case strapped to his back.

“Do you want me to play here? I don’t think anybody would mind, really… they’d probably think I’m a street performer or something.” 

“You can, if you want… but we should probably get somewhere less crowded first,” I responded, pointing towards a less-populated space on the platform. “You’re probably going to need more space to put the cello.”

Eren nodded, and we moved over to the area I specified, which luckily had a bench. I didn’t think sitting on the floor would have been a very intelligent idea in this scenario.

After taking a seat at a one of the corner sections of the bench, Eren unzipped his carrying case to reveal his cello, retrieving his bow from an inside pocket. He wrapped his fingers around the neck and flexed them, as if psyching himself up.

And he played.

Wait… didn’t he say he wasn’t that good?

I was mesmerized immediately when he played. His performance was spontaneous and emotional… it felt as if he’d made the tune up on the spot. He probably had. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him… mostly his hands as they expertly handled the strings and bow.

When he finished, he looked up at me, slightly embarrassed. “Pretty bad, isn’t it?”

I shook my head slowly. “N… no. Not at all.” It was a sincere statement… he was too good.

A smattering of applause sounded around us… a few passengers had been listening to the performance. As Eren had predicted, they thought he was a street performer. A few even gave him money. His face flushed at the sudden attention, and he tried to politely reject it, to no avail.

“There’s no way… there’s no way they wouldn’t let you in. That was too good.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“My band… they have to take you.”

Eren’s eyes lit up at that. “You want me in your band?”

_Are you kidding me?! Of course!_ “Yeah… I think you’d do great, you sound amazing!”

“Wow. I… really?”

“We just have to talk to the others, like I said, but I think you’re in.”

“You want me to audition?”

“This Friday, if you can. If not, we’ll set up another date.”

“Friday’s fine… I never really have much to do anyway,” he responded, his eyes wide, a broad smile gracing his features.

So it was agreed—Eren would come to Mikasa’s parents’ garage, and he could audition for the band there. I couldn’t help the smile that was slowly spreading across my face. I texted Mikasa just before I got off the train to tell her the news.

_Audition’s this Friday. He’ll be a black-haired, green-eyed kid with a black trenchcoat, name’s Eren._

I put in my headphones and got off the train, smiling to myself in spite of my best attempts, basking in the Green Day song flooding my ears. Feeling a vibration against my thigh at the bottom of the platform steps, I paused and checked my messages.

_Cancel the audition._

Mikasa’s short, abrupt text flummoxed me. Cancel? What was wrong? _Why?_

Another vibration gave me pause when I passed through the turnstile.

_Please. Cancel the audition. Don’t bring him here._

I was beginning to panic now. _Mikasa, do you know him? Did he hurt you?_

The next vibration came when I was halfway up the block.

_I don’t want to talk about it. Just cancel the audition. I don’t want to see him._

I wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, Eren’s playing was spectacular, and I felt like he would really fit in with the band. On the other hand, I didn’t want to do anything to hurt Mikasa… she was my best friend-- nay, the only friend I had-- and if I lost her...

I needed a third party opinion, someone who might be able to look at the situation objectively and help me decide. But who would that be? I didn’t really know anybody, and the only person I knew who might be able to help… I couldn’t trust him with this, it seemed too personal… I only really spoke with him when the issue was band-related.

_Well, this kind of is… isn’t it?_

I shook my head firmly, and tried on my own to process the situation. Half of the answer was actually staring me in the face. Obviously I was going to have to talk to Eren and find out if he knew Mikasa, and what happened between them. He was friendly, and practically an open book, so I didn’t doubt that he might tell me if I approached the topic carefully.

But how to do that, exactly...?

Releasing a sigh, I decided to just deal with the situation the next morning. I was too confused to think clearly right now. I decided to be satisfied that I at least had half the answer here. I knew the “what…” the “how” would have to come later.

And yet again, I could feel anxiety creeping up into my body from my own feelings and behavior.

I knew what I would have to do if I spoke to Eren and found out he'd hurt Mikasa. I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Yet I couldn't quite figure out why I dreaded the answer being yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, the title is a lyric from a Cyndi Lauper song. BECAUSE I CAN. The song in question is Time After Time, for those who don't know.


	4. Remember Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 6/1/17: Tweak to Eren's backstory. The old one was getting on my nerves.
> 
> You know what I hate? Fics that just randomly stop without a proper ending. So I promise I'm not gonna do that to you guys. :p
> 
> What took me so long? Outside stuff. I shall leave it at that.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who gave kudos. It makes me happy when people like my stuff. To those who bookmarked, I hope this chapter is delicious and satisfying.
> 
> Okay, enough with my rambling, enjoy the chapter!

It was a few days later that I found myself, instead of standing near the platform, sitting at one of the benches in the train station, waiting for Eren to arrive. Pangs of anxiety were eating away at my insides, but I tried to stay resolute. However, I couldn’t help running the action I was about to commit over and over in my head. With each incarnation, I consistently came to the same conclusion: for the first time in my life, I was about to defy Mikasa.

I have to admit, “defy” is probably the wrong word to use here… but it was the only one I could find that didn’t quite make me sound like the two-faced traitor I was already thoroughly convinced I was.

There was really no sugarcoating it: Mikasa has been my best friend since junior high. She’s the only person who has been there for me through thick and thin. She was the only one who ever wanted to lift my spirits, instead of tearing me down like everybody else did.

And I was about to risk our friendship for a stranger. And I didn’t even know why.

There was no other word for it: _despicable._

I ran a hand through my hair. I should just leave. Go to another part of the platform where Eren couldn’t see me, and forget about this whole thing. Don’t even think about Eren again. Just walk away.

“Hey Armin!”

I’d hesitated too long. I turned to see Eren coming to meet me, waving, a big grin on his face. Sigh. I had no choice but to follow through now.

Alright, Armin. Straight to the point. No dithering around. Just say what it is you need to.

“Hi, Eren,” I said when he was close to me. I tried my best to smile. “Um… Eren… do you…” Come on, say it. “Do you…”

“Huh? What’s up?” Eren seemed a bit puzzled by my nervousness.

“Um… do you… that is… do you want to take a walk?” Well, I guess that scraps Operation Blunt.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” I took a breath and left the station, Eren close behind.

When we reached the ground level entrance, instead of immediately boarding Eren’s bike, as had become routine, I instead lead him down a random street. I wasn’t quite sure of where I was going, only that I wanted to get him somewhere where he and I could talk. On the bike, it would be too noisy, and I wouldn’t really be able to ask my question properly. However I ended up breaking the ice, it couldn’t be on Eren’s motorcycle.

Four blocks later, I still wasn’t quite able to break the ice. I kept taking a breath, letting it out… but every time I tried to speak, I’d lose my voice, and would just wind up falling silent again.

“Hey.” I turned to Eren, who spoke after several more blocks of silence. “What’s your family like?” He asked.

“How come?”

He pointed forward diagonally. Following his arm, I caught sight of a mother playing with her two children. “They just kind of reminded me of mine,” Eren explained. “So it made me want to ask about yours.”

Odd progression, I thought, but there was nothing wrong with obliging him. “It’s just me and my dad. My mom died when I was six.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I do still miss her, though.” A small smile crossed my face. “Mikasa acts she’s my mom, though. She’s like a sister to me.”

“Is she nice?” It was a combination of curiosity and sad nostalgia. Looking at him, I saw the same melancholic look he had adopted in the diner.

“Yeah, she is… pretty much the only person in school who wants anything to do with me. Everyone else just thinks I’m a nerd.”

“Is she… forgiving?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, suppose you made a really bad mistake in the past. I mean, something that kind of hurt her. Would she forgive you?”

Like what I’m about to do now? “Um… I don’t know. I guess if it wasn’t a really bad mistake, she probably would…”

Eren took a deep breath. “Then I probably shouldn’t come to your audition.

“What? Why?”

“I think your friend Mikasa might be my sister.”

 

“Sister…?”

“Yeah. I think she’s my adopted sister… _was_ my adopted sister.” Once again, he adopted that look I saw him with at the diner, a sad, nostalgic smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“Your friend sounds a lot like her… and they have the same name… she wouldn’t want to see me after I left her.”

“What do you mean?”

He waved, dismissing his own remark. “Nothing, really. It was kind of dumb.”

“Tell me… what happened?”

“Forget it, Armin. It’s just a childish sob story,” he chuckled. 

“I don’t mind sob stories,” I said quickly, and immediately regretted it. _Armin, what the hell is wrong with you?_

Eren seemed unfazed by my lack of social skills, and simply smiled. “Well, alright, since you’re so eager.” He took another breath and began.

“Our parents died when we were ten. My dad was the one who got me my cello lessons. I played the damn thing every single day, every chance I got. I loved-- love-- that instrument.

Anyway, after they died, we went to live with our uncle Keith. He was mean most of the time, but we liked him well enough.” Assuming that Eren really was Mikasa’s sister, I could definitely attest… I had met Mikasa’s uncle before, and he was super strict, like a drill sergeant. But he did sometimes take us all out for ice cream or fast food, and helped pay for some of our equipment.

“When we first moved there, he didn't care about my music taste, even though he didn’t like it himself. But then one day, practically out of nowhere, he started insisting that I stop playing rock music. He kept trying to force me to play jazz instead.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, something about culture or whatever.” Eren sounded irritated when he said it. “I mean, I like jazz and all, but I don’t see the problem with playing rock. He did, though. We fought about it practically every single day. I had to walk on eggshells just to play my cello or listen to my CDs anymore.” His breathing was beginning to quicken, his face tightening into a snarl. His eyes were also moistening, angry tears threatening to escape.

“We ended up in a huge fight one night. I was playing this My Chem song, and he caught me and yelled at me for not practicing some jazz composition he gave me. I told him I didn't want to be told what to like or what to play. He told me that if I didn't want to listen to him, then I could get out.

“I knew I couldn’t live in that house anymore. I wasn’t going to stay with someone who was purposefully sabotaging my dreams. So I just packed my bags that night and walked out.” His scowl suddenly softened into melancholy, and he looked down at the concrete. “Mikasa was awake that night. She begged my not to go, or else let her come with me. I ordered her to stay. Uncle Keith liked her better, and I knew he’d keep taking care of her. I knew she’d be happier there than in the streets with me. She probably hates me now, though.”

I wasn’t quite sure of what to say to him. His story sounded remarkably like my own… and yet I couldn't find the words to console him. Maybe because I couldn't even find the words to console myself.

"I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

Eren just shook his head. “Wasn’t your fault.”

Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Maybe introducing him to Mikasa wasn’t such a bad idea after all, if they really knew each other... 

It would still be a pretty devious thing to do… but if I played my cards right, maybe we could both get what we wanted.

“Are you sure Mikasa wouldn’t want to talk to you?”

Eren nodded.

“Have you tried contacting her?” I asked.

Eren shook his head. “Nah. She’s probably pissed at me… I’d be lucky if she didn’t hang up the phone the minute she heard my voice.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Eren startled. “Well, I mean… I just know. She’d never forgive me for abandoning her. Not that I’d deserve it, anyway.”

“I don’t know… I think you should give her the benefit of the doubt. She might react better to hearing from you than you think.”

“No way. I know Mikasa… once you piss her off, there’s no recoiling from it.”

“But you’re her brother. Maybe she’ll be more forgiving towards you than anybody else.”

He laughed at that. “You’re pretty optimistic, aren’t you? I don’t think she’ll give me a free pass just because I’m her brother.”

“She’ll probably be mad at you, sure… but I think she’d at least be willing to listen. People don’t always react the way you think they will.”

“How so?”

“Well… once, my friend loaned me something. She said it was an old family heirloom.” I ran my fingers through my hair, embarrassed at myself with the reliving of the memory. “I… kind of lost it.”

Eren whistled. “She must have been pissed.”

“She was. I must have apologized maybe four hundred times, but I was sure she was going to kill me, or never speak to me again.” I smiled. “She didn’t, though. She was mad, but she didn’t cut me off or anything… she told me to forget it. It turned out all right, though… it turned out I’d left the scarf in my closet.” I laughed. “It was pretty stupid, though.”

But Eren had stopped speaking. Noticing that he had stopped walking with me, I turned around to face him. He was frozen in place, his eyes wide and unseeing.

“Did you say… a scarf…?”

I stared curiously at him. What was so wrong about a scarf? “Yeah… she wears this red scarf around all the time… she says somebody in her family gave it to her. I guess it was her moth-- Eren? Where are you going?”

Eren had turned around and begun walking away from me. His speed steadily increased, finally turning into a full-blown run back down the street. I followed him.

“Eren! Wait!” I managed to catch up with him, and grabbed his wrist. It didn’t stop him, but I managed to slow him down enough to take notice and stop on his own.

“Eren, what’s the matter?”

“Your friend... it’s her. I can’t face her.”

“You mean… it really is…?”

_“Definitely._ That scarf… I gave it to her for Christmas. After my mom adopted her. I can’t believe she’s still wearing it… I thought she would have thrown it away by now…”

I seized the opportunity. “Don’t you see, Eren? It means she still cares about you! I think she’d want to see you.”

“No. She… she’d just turn me away.” He sounded less convinced than he did before.

“You don’t know that. You should at least try talking to her. You can’t know what she’s going to do if you don’t try.”

He turned to me, a sad look in his eyes. “What if she won’t talk to me?”

“At least you know. It’s better than spending the rest of your life in uncertainty, right? At least give it a shot.”

He smiled then, and turned back around. “Alright then. I’ll talk to her.”

“Great!” I said to him. I meant it.

Just then, my phone rang. I lifted it from my pocket, fearing the worst… I released a breath when I saw Jean’s name on the screen. And panicked when I noticed the time… I was twenty minutes late getting back.

“Armin, what the hell?” Jean asked when I picked up. “Where are you, Mikasa and I thought you got killed out there!”

"Sorry, I kind of got held up... I’m on our way now, I'll see you there." I hung up before Jean could ask any more questions.

I answered Eren's unasked question as we walked back to Eren's bike. "Jean is our bassist. I want you to meet him first and play, then we’ll get Mikasa." We had gotten so caught up talking about Mikasa that I hadn’t gotten to tell Eren about Jean.

Eren nodded. "Yeah. I understand." He tried valiantly to sound confident, but I could still detect a twinge of worry in his voice. Unsure of what to say to reassure him, I merely continued on our path in silence, looking over my shoulder occasionally to make sure Eren didn't try to make a break for it again.

We boarded the bike and sped off. I gave Eren the directions to Mikasa's place-- he'd only ever been to mine. When we reached Mikasa's house, Jean was waiting outside the door.

"It's about time." Spotting Eren, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Who’s this bum? Have you been hitchhiking, Armin?”

Seeing Eren’s own eyes narrow, I spoke up. "Um, Jean, this is Eren. Eren, this is Jean." I stepped aside to allow the two to greet each other.

They shook hands, Jean scrutinizing Eren carefully. "You gonna tell me why Eren is here?”

“I want to audition for the band,” Eren said, his voice hard.

Jean blinked, completely caught off guard. “We’re not auditioning anybody today…”

“It’s a last-minute thing,” I said quickly. "I heard him play already, he’s pretty good."

“If you say so… let’s see what you got then.” We followed Jean inside, and through the door to the garage. Once there, Jean pointed to an empty chair.

Eren removed his cello from his back and sat down, swiftly unzipping the case to reveal his instrument. He wrapped his fingers around the neck, flexing as he did so, and shook out his other arm, which was already holding his bow, and once again took to the instrument.

It was a cover this time. It sounded like it might have been Evanescence's Bring Me To Life.

I stole a quick glance at Jean to see his reaction. His eyes had widened slightly, and he watched Eren with a combination of curiosity and awe as he played. I smiled: Jean was as good as won over.

I was proven right soon after Eren was done playing. "Not bad, kid. You have to play for Mikasa too, though. If she's for it, you're in."

Eren cast his eyes downward. "I hope so..." It came out as a murmur.

Jean and I went into the living room, through the kitchen, where Jean called out, “Mikasa!”

“What is it?” She called back.

“We have to talk to you about something, could you come down?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” After about two, Mikasa emerged from the upper floor.

“We got a guy in the garage who wants to be in the band. Last minute thing.”

Mikasa looked mildly annoyed, but shrugged. “I can listen to him. What does he play?”

I braced myself as Jean answered, “Cello. Weird instrument to audition for a rock band wi-- Mikasa?”

Mikasa’s whole body had stiffened, her face wooden. She looked first at me, then at the garage door. I started babbling an apology.

"I’m sorry, Mikasa, I know you said not to bring him, but I had to, I mean, he's just so good, he sounds amazing, and I didn't know you'd be so--"

Without another word, Mikasa marched off in the direction of the garage's back entrance. Jean and I followed, Jean looking somewhat unnerved. “Armin, who is this guy?!” Jean hissed.

“I…” I didn’t have an answer; I just hoped that nothing would happen to Mikasa. I'd have never forgiven myself if I'd gotten her hurt.

She threw open the garage door, taking a few steps through it. The noise startled Eren, who whipped around to investigate. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Mikasa standing there.

"Eren...?"

He smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hi, Mikasa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter named after the song Remember Everything by Five Finger Death Punch.


	5. Perfect

They stood there in silence for some time, neither one moving or saying anything.

“Eren… you’re…?” she said after a painfully long pause.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Mikasa… well, kind of. I guess I didn’t really expect it to be you... I missed you.” His grin widened, now more sheepish than uncomfortable. “How have you been?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, after another long pause, she ran over to Eren and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. Eren stood in shock for only a moment before returning the hug tightly. A few quiet coughs emerged from her; Eren patted her back comfortingly in response.

What happened when they parted was something I was not expecting.

As soon as they had separated from each other, Mikasa punched Eren in the face. Hard. The impact was enough to send Eren to the floor.

“Where the hell have you been?” she nearly growled, voice lowered to a dangerous whisper.

Rubbing his cheek, Eren looked away from her. “I’m sorry…”

“Why did you abandon us? What in god’s name would have possessed you to walk out on us? To walk out on _me?”_

Eren turned to her this time, staring her in the eyes, a look of determination crossing his face. “I didn’t just walk out on you. I was trying to protect you!”

“From what? Getting hurt? Because if that was it, you did an abysmal job at it.” She spat the last few words at him.

“It would have been worse if you’d tried to follow me. When I left, I had hardly any money… even now, I barely scrape rent money together… would you have preferred living in the streets for months?”

“It would have been better than being abandoned by my brother! I could have gotten a job, found us a place to stay… you of all people should know that I know how to survive just fine.”

Eren had finally stood up, staring Mikasa straight in the eye. “You wouldn’t have been safe out there! Do you realize how dangerous the streets are? You could have gotten hurt!”

“Oh, thanks for telling me, Eren… I’m sure I would never have figured that out, because I’m obviously too sheltered to know anything about the world, never mind that I was once a homeless orphan!”

“So I guess you would have wanted to go back to that?! Well, I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you out there.” He broke his gaze from hers finally, staring down at his shoes. “I knew Uncle Keith would keep taking care of you, even if he hates me. So I left you with him. I thought it would be better that way.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to shout something else, but then her face softened somewhat and fell. She looked around, and then down at the floor. “Uncle Keith doesn’t hate you.”

“He’s the one who told me to leave,” Eren replied, laughing incredulously.

“He’s regretted it ever since. I don’t think he thought you’d leave like that. When you didn’t return for three days, he called the police. They never found you, so when they called off the search, we… we thought you were…”

Eren had been looking at her as she was speaking, an expression twinged with guilt. “He… he was looking for me? I never thought he would…”

“I heard him in his room one night; he was talking to himself. He said he wished he hadn’t done what he did to you, that he could have talked to you about the fight you guys had.”

Eren cast his eyes downward. “I… I do miss him. But… I can’t go back. He’d probably just destroy my instruments again...”

Mikasa shook her head. “You can’t know if you don’t try to talk to him.” A pause. “He lets me play my drums in my room sometimes. I don’t think he’ll object to your cello.”

They stood in silence for a few moments. Eren, seeming eager for a change of subject, grabbed the end of her scarf, waving it gently by the corner. “You’re still wearing this ragged old thing?” he said, smiling amusedly at it.

Mikasa snatched it back, holding it close to her chest. “I always have. It’s important. You gave it to me to wear, didn’t you?”

He smiled gently. “Who knew you’d wear it this long, though.”

“I don’t mean to mean to interrupt the family reunion,” Jean interjected, a little awkwardly, “but he still hasn’t played for you yet.” A mild jolt had shot through my body when he spoke-- I had completely forgotten he had followed me. “Wasn’t he going to audition?”

“Oh! That’s right, I forgot… my cello’s probably feeling abandoned,” he said, laughing, as he took his place at the instrument once more.

Mikasa shook her head before he could play a single note. “I remember what your playing sounds like. I don’t need you to audition.”

“It’s been a long time, though,” Eren insisted. “I might not play as well as you remember; it’s better if you hear my playing now.”

“I doubt you could lose your skill just like that… but if you feel like you have to, you can go ahead and play for me.”

We all gathered around Eren as he sat back behind his already set up cello. He picked up the bow, and played after stretching a bit.

I looked at Mikasa to see her reaction. She was smiling slightly, her eyes closed, her head swaying to the music. I smiled at her reaction; he was definitely in.

When he was done, he looked to Mikasa, having already played for Jean. “What do you think?”

She nodded. “You haven’t let your skills dull… your playing is still beautiful. It’s settled—you’re in.”

I cheered internally as we all went to shake Eren’s hand, Jean a tad reluctantly, and welcome him into the band. I knew they had to take him, he was too good.

After my own handshake, I looked at my cell phone. “Oh no,” I said, staring at the time. My father would be back home in about fifteen minutes. “Guys, I’ve got to run, I’m sorry…”

Mikasa and Jean checked their own cell phones. “We know, it’s alright,” Jean assured. “We’ll see you tomorrow, same time as usual.”

I packed my things and waved goodbye to everyone before jogging off to my house.

 

Once inside, I quickly hid my guitar in the secret space in my closet. When my parents first moved into this place, I had stumbled upon something in my room that I knew would prove to be an asset someday: there was a hidden door in the back of my closet, which was nearly perfectly camouflaged with the wall. As a child, I used to hide mostly innocuous things in there: found toys, my piggy bank, and other such things. Nowadays, it was the perfect hiding place for my guitar, my amp, and my collection of CDs. Mainly it was the CDs I needed to hide: my dad would flip if he saw half of my collection.

My father walked through the door just a few minutes after I had thrown myself onto the couch and stuck my nose in a book. "I’m back, Armin!" he announced.

I looked up and waved to him casually. "Welcome back." He was neatly put together as usual. His hair was the same color as mine, and shoulder-length, neatly combed, and tied in a low ponytail. His blue suit was neatly pressed, black tie clipped in place on his shirt. 

"How was your day today?"

"It was okay... Mikasa came over today. She helped me with my homework, and we watched some TV." It wasn't completely a lie... Mikasa and I both did our homework before we went to band practice.

My father nodded his approval. "That was all you two did? How are your grades coming?”

“Um…” In lieu of an answer, I walked to the door and opened my backpack, fishing around until I found my most recent report card. I returned and handed it to him.

He scanned it critically before nodding again. “Pretty good. They’re nearly as good as Mikasa’s now. Keith showed me her report card; she gets better and better every quarter. ” My father and Mikasa’s uncle were neighbors… I had met her when they first moved to our street a few years ago. “She’ll definitely get into Harvard… and I hope to see you with her.” His blue eyes shot me a pointed, sideways look; my own matching ones sank to gaze at the floor.

“Well, she still does tutor me…” Part of me began to hope that her own grades weren’t dropping working with me-- my grades were never really horrible, but Dad expected only the best, and there were a few subjects I wasn’t exactly great at.

He gave me a small smile. “She’s a good woman. Shame I can’t get you two to agree to marry.”

I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. "Dad... she's my friend. That'd just be weird."

He sighed. "Oh well... a man can only have high hopes for his son. There’s not a lot of women like her, you know."

"I guess..." 

He suddenly cast a skeptical look at the area around my neck. Reaching out, he began tugging on my shirt collar.

“I don’t know how you always manage to look so sloppy, Armin. I keep trying to teach you how to take care of yourself…” Finished with my collar, he shook his head. “You should be glad you have Mikasa, nobody else would put up with this. I hope you didn’t go to school like this.”

I shook my head and cast my eyes downward. My shirt had probably gotten ruffled in my haste to bury the evidence of my true activities; I had ironed it this morning before I left for school. Or possibly it had come apart when I loosed one of the buttons. I tended to not pay much attention to my clothes during the day.

“I worry about you. You’re going to be so lost when you start living by yourself unless you start cleaning up.”

“Sorry…” I murmured, and lifted a hand to brush my shirt.

“Don’t do that… you’re just going to mess it up again.” He sighed and began again,

"Anyway, Armin, I have something to tell you."

I tilted my head slightly, curious.

"I’m going to be going away for a couple of months; I’ll be on a business trip to help a client negotiate an international contract."

"Hey... that's great! Congratulations, Dad!" It was great in more ways than one.

"You're going to be okay by yourself, right? I know you've been alone before, and I try to trust you to be responsible, but..."

I put my hand up to stop him. "Don't worry. I'll be fine, I promise"

"You'll do all your homework everyday?"

"Of course."

"You'll practice your piano?"

"You can count on it."

“And you’ll keep this place tidy?”

_Maybe I can get Mikasa to help with that…_ “Definitely.”

Dad smiled at me. "I’m glad you’re trying to be more mature… I want to be able to say I raised a fine man." He patted my shoulder with his hand. "I'm especially glad you've grown out of that 'rock and roll' nonsense you kept bringing into the house when you were younger."

I tried my hardest to keep my smile from fading. "Yeah..."

"I've seen what that garbage does to other people's families. Turning their kids into tacky, shameless delinquents... I'd be ashamed if you came home with purple hair or some other ridiculous thing." He gave my shoulder another clap, and turned to go upstairs. "I’m going to get packed for the trip. I won't be leaving for a few days, but you know how I like to plan." He started up the stairs.

"Okay. I'm going to go see Mikasa for a while." I couldn't wait to tell her and Jean the good news.

“Come back soon; I might need your help.”  
“I will, Dad.” Putting my jacket and shoes back on, I opened the door and walked out, slowly at first. I broke into a run when I thought I was far enough away from the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter is short for no reason.
> 
> And now Mikasa and Eren are back together. I actually liked writing their reunion the most. I hope you guys like it too. <3 Actually, I hope you like the entire chapter-- nay, the entire fic-- but that happens to be my favorite scene.
> 
> So Armin's dad is going to be gone for a while, and our kids finally get to play live... but how long can they keep it up? We'll just have to seeeee.....
> 
> Chapter named after the song Perfect by Simple Plan.


	6. Think I'm Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (5/24/17)
> 
> I finally got around to editing that piece of dialogue I hated. That said, enjoy.

We had all gathered in Jean’s den about a day after my father left for his business trip. Mikasa and Jean were more ecstatic than usual about rehearsal when I group-called them after he gave me the news.

“Aw, yeah!” Jean had whooped into the phone. “ This is amazing! We can finally start playing some shows now!”

“This is great news, Armin.” I could hear the smile in Mikasa’s voice.

I nodded enthusiastically, even though no one could see me over the phone. “It is. Free to play live for at least a month! We just have to figure out where to play.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. We might be able to get a small club to host us if we send them our tape.”

“We should probably record a better version then," Jean suggested. “We want to sound as good as we possibly can.”

I agreed-- aside from having to incorporate the cello into the songs now, the old tapes made the music sound a bit too raw-- and we decided to re-record our demos at rehearsal. 

I had intended to do as I usually did… launch straight into our rehearsals. Just choose a song and start playing.

But, for some reason, today I couldn’t seem to pick up my guitar. It merely sat unmoving in my lap, and I stared at it apprehensively, unable to budge from the couch. I had been doing this for the past five minutes straight, ever since Eren arrived. 

The others had asked me over and over if I was okay; each time I had told them I was fine, that I just needed to clear my head, and then I would be ready.

I still wasn’t.

So now, everyone merely sat awkwardly in the silence, engrossed in various activities while waiting to begin: Jean was carefully tuning his bass, Mikasa was adjusting her drums, and Eren plucked absently at one of the strings on his cello.

I knew I needed to get up, needed to sling my guitar over my shoulder and try to start playing. I had to let everyone know I was ready to rehearse.

But I couldn’t bring myself to pick up my guitar.

I wasn’t sure why, but I just didn’t want Eren to hear me play.

Never mind. I knew exactly why I didn’t want Eren to hear my playing.

The thoughts were creeping up on me again.

I was so excited when I first let him in… but now that he was here, and I had to show him my skills, I wasn’t sure if I could hold up to his expectations. Was I good enough for this? Maybe my playing was worse than I thought-- maybe it was abysmal and I would cause Eren to leave the band because my playing was so bad…

But that was ridiculous. Even if I was terrible, why would Eren leave just because I wasn’t playing well?

_Maybe because he would rather not be saddled with some amateur who's playing sounds like a cat being strangled?_

But Mikasa and Jean are with me too… and I can improve…

_He’ll just take them with him. They’re probably tired of waiting for you to get better anyway. Especially Jean. He is the one who suggested re-recording... it's probably because you sound like crap._

I’m not that bad… am I?

_You’re a self-taught guitarist with no experience playing live because you're too scared of Daddy to play a show… you really think you’re going to impress anybody? You sure are pathetic, aren’t you?_

I was beginning to feel a tightness in my chest. As if the words themselves had wrapped themselves around me, tightening, constricting, threatening to squeeze every last puff of air out of my lungs, deflating them, choking me...

I balled my fists, clenched my teeth, and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

No.

Not again.

Resist.

“Armin.” A soft voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up and met Mikasa’s dark eyes. “Is something the matter? You look sick.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m just…” I let the sentence trail off.

“Do you want to show Eren some of our recordings before we start? I know they’re not great, but they’ll at least give him an idea of where we’re going.” The look in her eyes made me wonder if she might have known what I was thinking, and if the reasons for her suggestion weren’t purely practical. 

I considered her for a moment. Well, at least if I did that and Eren didn’t like my playing, I didn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself in person… I nodded.

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great.”

Mikasa nodded and turned to Eren. “You should probably hear a few of our demos before we start. That way you have an idea what we sound like, and you can see where you might fit.”

“Makes sense to me. I probably would have ended up asking anyway,” Eren conceded.

Mikasa walked to the nightstand, where Jean’s laptop resided. She popped a CD into the drawer, navigated to the music player, and clicked it into life. In seconds, one of our songs began blaring throughout the room.

I watched Eren to gauge his reaction. Halfway into the intro, Eren was bobbing his head to the music. By the chorus, he was thrashing around as much as his sitting position would allow.

At the end of the song, Eren was beaming. “Holy hell, you guys are awesome! Why haven’t you been out playing live already?”

Mikasa and I looked at each other. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: what were we going to tell him? I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him the truth yet.

“Well… because…”

“Because none of your buisness, that’s why.” Jean cut in over my babbling. “For Christ’s sake, you just got here, and already you’re butting into our private matters.”

“What are you getting so testy for? I was just asking a question.”

“I’m ‘testy,’ as you put it, because you’re sticking your nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

Eren was becoming visibly irritated. “I’m part of this band, aren’t I? I should at least know something about the situation we’re working with!”

Jean began laughing derisively, which only grated Eren further. “So you think just because you joined our band you have the right to poke into everyone’s personal life? You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Eren shot out of his chair, his eyes absolutely livid. He looked as if he were ready to tackle Jean to the ground right there and beat him senseless.

“I didn’t ask about anyone’s personal life! I just--!”

“Eren. Jean. Enough.” Mikasa’s sharp, stern chastising cut through the argument before any real damage could be done. “We have a band to focus on; this is no time for random petty disputes.”

The two looked as if they might have argued back, but the cold stare she gave them suggested that she might knock both their heads together if they dared speak another word. Clearly neither of them was looking forward to such a fate, so they broke their tense eye contact, dropping the fight.

Feeling a little bit sobered now that I’d had a distraction, I slung my guitar over my shoulder and rose. “Okay. I think I can start now.”

Mikasa’s lips curved into an encouraging smile. “We’re all ready, Armin.”

“So what are we gonna play?” Jean asked.

“Maybe a cover. Just to ease Eren in, then we’ll start on our originals later.”

“You don’t need to start me on easy mode, you know,” Eren chimed in. “Throw anything at me, I’m up for it.”

“He’s right, Armin… what we need is for him to go back to the tutorial.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Eren snapped, “I’ve been playing music for a pretty long time.”

“Right, right… in that case, better start slow so he doesn’t aggravate the osteoporosis.”

Eren’s eyes flashed dangerously. “If it’s alright with you, I’d really rather not murder my cello by tossing it at your head, so could you please stop screwing with me and play?”

“As soon as you stop being a temperamental knucklehead.”

“Look, you’re the one who made me--!”

The sound of a crash cymbal caught everyone off guard. Mikasa stared at the two quarreling boys with a near-murderous glare.

 _“Jean. Er-en.”_ She spoke their names in a dangerously slow tone. “Stop it. We are _supposed_ to be practicing. We are not going to get in a single minute of practice if you two keep bickering like catty cheerleaders.”

Neither of them opened their mouths again. Mikasa could be pretty scary if you provoked her. Neither of them wanted to be on the receiving end of any punishment Mikasa might dish out.

Instead, the two of them simply settled down behind their instruments, readying themselves to play.

“Yeah, Armin. Let’s do some covers.” 

Practice went more or less smoothly after that. I had gained a little more confidence from Eren’s earlier praise, and was able to play as comfortably as usual. Eren himself eased into the band rather well; he knew nearly all of the songs we played, and was easily able to work his cello into those he didn’t, after a few bars. Jean looked as if he wanted to make fun of Eren more, but really didn’t want to incur Mikasa’s wrath again. We recorded a few of the songs with the microphone on Jean’s laptop and burned them to a CD, to send to any interested clubs.

On the way back home, I couldn’t help but question Jean’s behavior at practice.

The way he kept prodding at Eren, with no apparent provocation… starting an argument with him twice. I could see that they had a bit of an opinions clash, but… Jean actually acted like he outright _hated_ Eren.

Was Jean… purposely antagonizing him?

Why would he want to do that…?

 

I had pondered Jean's behavior for the remainder of our meeting, and even after I had left. Now, however, I was lying on the couch in my living room, my eyes closed, Bullet For My Valentine free to burst from the speakers and permeate my thoughts, now that Dad was gone. He had texted me a few times, checking up on me; I answered them all, confirming that I was okay.

I heard a buzzing sound on the coffee table next to me, loud enough to cut through the music; too long and too frequent to be a text. Panicking, wondering if I neglected somehow to answer one of Dad’s texts, or hadn’t heard it, I turned down the speakers and lifted my phone from the table, prepared to hit pause depending on the caller. I relaxed when I saw Mikasa's name on the screen.

"Do you want me to come over tonight, Armin? I got a new CD the other day that I can bring."

"Of course, that'd be great." If Mikasa was coming over tonight, that meant she might stay over. She usually did whenever my father went on long business trips like this.

"Alright. I'll see you there." She hung up then, and I turned the player back up. I was glad more than ever that Dad had gone on this trip, as it meant not having to sleep alone for a few nights.

I hated sleeping alone. Some nights I could take it, but most nights... most were spent staring at the ceiling, the thoughts free to roam around in my head. Nights were the worst time to deal with them; it was harder to fight them off when I was alone in my room. With my bandmates around me, it was easier to accuse myself of being irrational-- _you're being paranoid, they wouldn't be here if they didn't want to be_ \-- but when I was alone, it somehow weakened all the defenses I've ever built up against myself. The walls would come caving in, and the darkness would break through, allowing all my demons to burst in and take over my mind.

_I can't make this band work, I must be crazy... I don't even sing that well... Jean probably laughs at me because I'm scared of Daddy... Mikasa probably agrees with him, and they'll get together and walk out on me because I'm a burden… Why is she even friends with me? I bet she doesn’t know either... I'm probably just holding her back..._

Nothing I did could shoo away the thoughts. And so I would be left awake all night, the tracks free to run on repeat, all the while a weight I couldn't see would press against my chest...

I had tried sleeping in my father’s room before, but after a while he got tired of me coming there every night, and had told me I needed to grow up. I had tried to use a night light, but he had made me unplug it, as he felt I was too old to be scared of the dark. Mikasa would occasionally stay over, but couldn't sleep in my room... Dad didn't like the idea of a boy and a girl sleeping in the same room, no matter how innocent we insisted it would be. And I very well couldn't ask Jean-- he had only been with us for a few months, and didn't know about my problem, nor did I want to tell him. Hence, Mikasa coming over was even more of a good prospect than usual.

She knocked on the door about fifteen minutes after she had hung up, and we listened to her new CD. It was by a local band from the South Bronx… they were actually really good. They had a rough, fast, raw kind of sound. I couldn’t help but thrash to the music.

When we had finished the entire album, we simply spent the rest of the time talking-- about school, about the band, about life in general-- until it was time to go to bed. “Do you need me to stay over?” Mikasa asked me.

Not one to ever admit that I _needed_ anything, I responded tentatively, “Y… you don’t have to stay. I mean, if you want to… you can go back home if you want. I’ll be fine.” I felt like I was going to regret what I said.

Instead, Mikasa stood up and yawned. “There’s not really much to do at home. I’ll call Uncle Keith and tell him where I am. Then I’ll go find the cot.” She walked over to the phone.

“It’s okay, I’ll go get it,” I said casually, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I don't actually have a set update schedule. I just post my chapters whenever. Like I said though, I refuse to abandon this fic. REFUSE.
> 
> I actually had this chapter prewritten, but I rewrote the ever living crap out of it. Same with the previous five. (And they were all sitting in my Google docs for TWO YEARS before I put them here. I'm terrible. T_T)
> 
> Just want to take the time again to thank everyone who read and kudos'd this, as well as any future readers. (And to let you know you're totally free to let me know if I suck. Don't be shy. ;) ) 
> 
> Chapter named after the song Think I'm Sick by Icon For Hire.


	7. Shake the Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwahahahahahahaha! Y'all thought I was dead, didn't you?! (Okay, I kind of was... but if death didn't stop Eren Yeager, I'm sure not letting it stop me!)
> 
> New chapter for you. Stick around for the footnote, I have a couple of things to tell you.
> 
> For now, enjoy the chapter!

Today’s practice session saw me draped over the couch in my living room, my head slumped back, arms splayed out to my sides.  
I was absolutely exhausted. Bone-tired. Going back to bed would have been a welcome offer at this point.  
I was alone in the room currently; Mikasa had gone to the attic to work out, Jean went home to replace his bass strings (he had broken a few during practice), and Eren had volunteered to buy snacks for everyone. I was actually particularly glad that those two were gone for now, as they were partially the cause of my weariness.  
The two were still fighting with each other rather aggressively. In spite of Mikasa’s attempts to effect a truce between them (including literally knocking their foreheads together), Jean continued to provoke Eren. No one could figure out the source of Jean’s antagonistic feelings towards the cello player, leaving the only solution as bombarding the both of them with songs and hope that playing will distract them from their conflict.  
My other problem was somewhat more collective. We had been working hard on our new recordings for weeks. After we’d made the demos, we went to every club we could find and submitted our demos (Mikasa had done most of the talking). We hadn’t gotten anything back yet.  
I opened my eyes to stare half-lidded at the ceiling. Just when I thought we’d finally had it made, something still found a way to go wrong.  
 _Can I really make this work?_  
“Armin?” I turned my head slowly to face the speaker: Mikasa had taken the seat to my right. I hadn’t noticed her come back from the attic. “Are you alright?”  
“... I don’t know.” I returned my gaze to the ceiling, and sighed.  
“Mikasa…” I hesitated, wondering if I should say it. Finally I swallowed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”  
“You don’t want to be in the band anymore?” She sounded both concerned and bewildered.  
“No, that’s not what I mean… just, I don’t know if I can make it work.”  
She put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”  
“Will we? Nothing’s gone right so far. First my dad, now this… Eren and Jean are fighting, and we can’t get any gigs...”  
“Armin.” Her pause let me know that she wanted me to look at her, so I turned my head once more. There was an encouraging look in her eyes. “We can do this. There have been setbacks, but we’re not doomed. You didn’t give up before. There’s no reason to now.”  
I smiled. I could always count on Mikasa to be rational for me when I couldn’t. “Thanks, Mikasa.”  
She just smiled back, patted my shoulder, and got up to tend to her drums. I had risen and strapped back on my guitar when Jean walked through the door, looking excited.  
“Guys,” he started, “one of the venues I wrote to just called me. The manager liked our demo; we’ve got a show in a week from now.”  
“All right!” It was right on time; I needed to hear that news. “Where is it at?”  
“On the Lower East Side.”  
“I’ll call Eren and get him back here; we need to start rehearsing.” Mikasa plucked her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed.  
“Do we have to have him here?” Jean scoffed.  
“He’s our celloist; if he left, our sound wouldn’t be complete,” I said.  
“Couldn’t we just get another celloist? It’s not like we can’t put up audition posters or something.”  
“First of all, if we did that, Armin’s father might see one of them and find out about the band. Second, before you showed up, it took us weeks just to replace our bassist after we lost Marco. Where are we going to get another celloist if Eren leaves?” Her stare was as deadpan as ever, but I could hear a hint of hostility in Mikasa’s voice. Jean backed up, guilt lining his face. I averted my eyes from the scene and tried not to think about Marco. I always kept him in my memory, but I never wanted to relive that night again as long as I lived. I didn’t want to think about the cameras, or the way he looked, or what they found in his pockets…  
I cleared my throat and strummed my guitar once to get their attention. “Let’s just play for now. Please call Eren, Mikasa. We’ll start without him for now; he’ll be able to catch up once he gets here.” I had to start playing now; it was the only way to keep myself from breaking out in tears.  
“Armin… I…” Jean began, but his voice trailed away.  
Mikasa’s expression morphed into one of empathy, and she nodded, settling behind her drums. Jean wordlessly strapped on his bass, and we began to play.

The night of the show arrived. Mikasa, tired of Jean and Eren arguing about Eren’s (admittedly impractical) ideas to get our equipment on the train, had called a cab to get us there. I split the cost of the cab with her, thankful that I hadn’t spent my allowance yet, and gave her extra for the return trip as well.  
The entire time we rode, I sat straight, my eyes locked forward, trying to hide my growing nerves. This would be my first time on stage outside of a few house shows for some of Mikasa’s friends… what if I messed up? What if they didn’t like my playing? I could hear it as if I were standing there right now, the jeers from the audience, the booing, the heckling…  
 _What’s a little kid doing on this stage?  
Get him out of here, no way he can play.  
We don’t need babies here._  
By the time we got to the venue, I was fighting to not hyperventilate. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, doing its level best to escape my ribs. I tried hard to stop my hands from shaking in my lap; I didn’t want anyone to know how nervous I was. All I could think was _run, run, RUN…_  
“Armin?”  
I turned to my left. I had completely forgotten Mikasa was sitting next to me. “Are you okay? Do you feel nervous?”  
I nodded. She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  
“You’ll be fine. It’s just like if we were in practice.”  
“Not exactly…” I countered.  
“It is. Remember that time we played at Samuel’s place? You did fine then.”  
“That was different, though. I mean, now none of us know anybody here, and we’re going to be getting paid, and the band’s future is really on the line and--”  
“Armin, calm down.” She spoke gently, reassuringly. “It was the same then as it will be now: you’ve got to go out there and give them the best show you can. We’ve got a new band now, and we can make a new start.” Her lips curled into a small smile.  
I gave the same look. “Thanks, Mikasa.”  
She nodded, squeezed my shoulder once more, and left to enter the building. I took a deep breath and turned my gaze upward, preparing to exit the cab.  
“You ready, Armin?”  
I looked to my right; Eren sat beside me. “Yeah, I think I can make it.”  
“I think so, too. This band’s sound is too go to not win over the audience.” He turned to look out the window on his side.. “They’ll be screaming our names by the end of the set.”  
I felt my stomach twist a little at his words. I envied him so much. Eren practically bled confidence and perseverance… he knew what he wanted, and had no doubts that he would get it. Not to mention, he seemed to believe in the band, and in me… far more faith than I had in myself.   
I wished that I could be like him somehow.  
He pivoted back around to face me, and his smile gave way to a mildly startled expression.  
“What’s the matter? You look kind of sad…”  
Completely unaware of this, I shook my head. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”  
He gave me a pat on my shoulder. “I know it’s your first stage show… just play your best. You’re a pretty awesome guitarist, Armin… there’s no way they won’t love you from the first note. Just think about mesmerizing them all.”  
I gave a small smile. It was a nice thing for him to say. I knew I had to believe I wouldn’t let him down. “Thank you.” His own grin broadened in response.  
Just then, the left car door violently swung open. Mikasa plopped back into her seat, huffing, and slammed it shut. Jean opened the right side and dragged Eren out.  
“What the hell did you do?!”  
“What?! I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t even in there!” Eren said indignantly.  
“You were supposed to tell them _everything_ about the band!”  
“Jean, let go of Eren and both of you get back in the car _now._ ” Mikasa had gotten back out briefly to snap at them before returning to her place. Aware that they had incurred her wrath further, both boys complied.  
“You kids all right? Something bad happen in there?” the driver asked.  
“Yeah, sort of. And it’s all this idiot’s fault.” Jean jabbed a thumb at Eren, who clenched his teeth.  
“What _did_ happen in there?” I inquired.  
Mikasa took a deep breath before answering. “The manager of the bar wouldn’t let us in. Said we were underage. After we’ve already made arrangements for this show.” She ran a hand through her hair in frustration.  
My heart felt like it was going to drop into my stomach. So much time we spent preparing for this show, all the practice, and yet still something goes wrong… even if they hadn’t known we were kids, they’d already booked us… how could they have cancelled the show just like that?  
 _I knew I couldn't make this work… this is all my fault..._  
“You kids want to go home?” The driver spoke, knocking me out of my thoughts.  
“I…” I didn't really want to go home, but I didn't know where else there was to go. It wasn’t like we could just show up somewhere else and just start playing unannounced.  
Eren sighed. “You guys want to grab a bite to eat? It’s on me, I feel kinda bad that you guys got screwed over.”  
Mikasa nodded. “That would be fine with me.”  
“Okay,” I conceded.  
Jean paused. He was silent for nearly a whole minute. Finally he sighed. “Whatever. But you’d better be telling the truth about paying.”

The driver returned us to our neighborhood (free of charge, surprisingly; apparently he felt badly that we’d gotten “stiffed,” and so had waived the fare), where we each went home and put away our instruments. Then we followed Eren to the train station, riding to wherever he was taking us.  
It turned out to be Sasha’s restaurant. When she saw us, she greeted us cheerily.  
“Hey Eren. Whaddya know, you brought your little blond friend back with you!” She ruffled my hair, which made me feel like a ten-year-old. “Who are your new friends?”  
“This is my sister Mikasa.” Mikasa nodded once when her name was mentioned. “That’s--”  
“Jean Kirshtein at your service,” he cut in, offering his hand to Sasha and smirking.  
Sasha accepted his hand, giving it a single pump. “Well, it’s great to meet you all! Let’s get you guys seated.”  
She lead us to an empty booth, where we took our seats and she handed us each menus. We perused them in silence, still reeling from the night’s events. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to eat, after everything-- I just wanted to go back home and go to sleep. Maybe I’d forget this ever happened.  
Sasha returned after about two minutes to take our orders. We announced them dispassionately, no one making eye contact with anything except the menus.  
After giving Connie the order ticket, she returned to our table. “Alright, you’ve got me curious; what's with the long faces?”  
I looked up at her-- I wasn't sure I wanted to speak. Should I tell her? Does she actually care? Where would I even begin?  
Eren saved me from having to say anything. “We’re in a band. We were supposed to play at this bar, but they kicked us out after they found out these guys are minors.”  
“Thank you very much for broadcasting all our business, Yeager,” Jean spat.  
“Was I supposed to just not answer her question? You would've told her anyway, right?”  
“That’s _our_ decision. You don’t get to make that choice.”  
“Boys, boys,” Sasha interrupted, as Eren opened his mouth to speak, “calm down. Cat’s already out of the bag. Sorry the night blew up on you, though.”  
I just sighed in response. I was just going to have to start over again. Only I wasn't sure if I could gather my courage again after this.  
Then a snap jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked up, and Sasha was grinning broadly, as though something had happened suddenly to excite her.  
“I’ve got it! Why don’t you guys play here?”  
“Here?!” Eren and I exclaimed at the same time.  
“Of course! It’s perfect! Now you get your audience and Connie and I won't have to pay extra for remodeling!”  
“Remodeling?”  
“Yeah… look over there.” I looked in the direction Sasha was pointing; in the corner, a few feet away from the front door, was a raised dais which I somehow failed to notice before.  
“A stage?”  
“Yeah… Connie kept telling me to demolish it, but I didn't think we had enough money for that… Besides, I figured it’d be useful for something one day.” She smirked, a little mischievously. “Here’s one day.”  
“Sasha, are you sure?” Eren asked. “You haven’t even heard our demo--”  
“I don't care. Listen, you need help, I’m your friend, and I can do it. You’ve got to let people help you. Besides, that bar obviously thought you were good enough to play for them before they jerked you around, so I have faith that you guys can do this.”  
I cast my eyes to the table and bit my lower lip, fighting a smile. She's the third person today to say they believed in me. I mean, technically she was referring to all of us collectively… but still, it made me happy to hear it.  
And yet… I didn't want to be happy about that. I felt-- I knew-- that they were only saying that out of pity. I didn't want to accept pity. That had to be all it was.  
Didn’t it?  
“So what do you guys think?”  
“I say we go for it,” Jean said. “We just caught a break, I say we take it.”  
Mikasa nodded once. “I think it’s a good idea as well.”  
“Eren?” Sasha gave him a pointed look.  
Eren’s eyes moved around the room, and he chewed his lower lip. “I don't want to get by through nepotism…” he said finally.  
“Get over yourself, Yeager. She’s offering us a chance, and you're gonna give that up because of some stupid pride?”  
“It’s not pride, Kirshtein, it’s principle. Something you obviously don't have.”  
“I think he's right.” Mikasa cut in before Jean could respond. “We can’t afford to throw away this opportunity.”  
“But Mikasa--!”  
“No, Eren. Feelings can't be allowed to stand in the way of the band’s progress. We play here, and whatever happens after that is up to the audience.”  
Eren looked like he wanted to argue back, but finally sighed, apparently more willing to give in to his sister than Jean. “Alright.”  
“I guess it’s all set, then,” Sasha chimed in happily.  
“Not yet,” Mikasa said. “Armin hasn't said anything yet.”  
All eyes turned to me. I immediately felt awkward.  
They were waiting for me to give my opinion. Part of me wanted to turn down the offer, to leave and go home, maybe try to drown out this whole day in music…  
I looked into everyone’s faces. Sasha smiled sweetly at me; Jean and Mikasa gave me encouraging looks; even Eren’s eyes held a glimmer of hope. Mikasa’s words to him replayed in my mind.  
 _Feelings can't be allowed to stand in the way of the band’s progress._  
She was right.  
In the grand scheme of things, my nervousness didn’t matter. My anxiety didn’t matter. What mattered was finally taking action on my dreams, finally making this happen.  
Besides… I couldn’t let them down.  
I gave a single sharp nod. “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! So, first off, if you're still with me, thanks for sticking around. It means a lot to me that people actually read this.
> 
> About the writing: I'm going to be editing Chapter 6 for some dialogue I can't stand. It's awful and makes me cry. I'll put the word *EDIT* in the footnote when that happens.
> 
> Plot stuff: from now on, Eren is black. This only affects a few parts of his backstory (which haven't been revealed yet anyway, ha ha) and a couple of themes I want to cover.
> 
> Chapter is named directly after a song by Cherri Bomb, as some of the events of this chapter are based on something that actually happened to them, and this song was the one they'd filmed of their solution to it.


	8. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

We arranged to play at ten that Saturday night. I offered to make some posters for the restaurant announcing our performance, but Sasha refused: as it turned out, Connie was a graphic design student, and had already agreed to make posters the minute he’d heard about our show. I asked how much Connie would charge for the posters, but she refused that as well; apparently he was so confident that our performance would draw more people to the restaurant that he’d waived the cost. This made the others happy, but I felt kind of bad about not paying him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jean had said, clapping my back. “It’ll be worth it if he’s right about us. And I know he is,” he’d finished, a smug smirk crossing his face. The contact made me uncomfortable, but I smiled nervously anyway.

When we went back to the restaurant that Saturday, our instruments in tow, I was pleased and a little anxious to discover that Jean and Connie were both right.

The diner wasn’t exactly crowded, but there were far more people inside than I usually saw when I went. I was amazed how many people were willing to give a new band a chance; if I had to estimate, there must have been around fifteen, maybe twenty, people there. I briefly entertained myself by guessing who was and wasn’t there to see us, before Sasha beckoned us to the stage.

“Get up there, you guys, it’s almost time. You got all your stuff ready?”

We nodded. “All set,” Eren confirmed, giving Sasha a thumbs-up.

She nodded her head. “Great. Give us a good show out there, all right?” She gave a double thumbs-up of her own and retreated to the kitchen.

We did as she requested, setting up our instruments and taking our places. I took a deep breath and prepared myself mentally: I anticipated that having so many eyes on me would be a bit… unsettling… but I knew that I was there to perform. They would be judging our music, not us.

That rationalization didn’t make the nerves go away completely-- after all, I wanted them to enjoy our music, too-- but it did keep some of the anxiety at bay.

I felt a hand on my head; Eren was ruffling my hair. “Don’t be nervous. You’re gonna go far, kid.” He gave me a knowing smirk. I couldn't help but smile in return.

I signalled Connie when we were ready to start (he was serving that day-- the lack of staff at the diner meant the two frequently changed places). He nodded and strolled up to the stage after putting in a customer’s order.

He took the microphone and spoke into it, “Hey guys! We’ve got some live music at the diner tonight; it’s the first time for both of us, so be gentle, yeah?” The mock flirtatious tone in his voice earned a few giggles. “Let’s have a warm welcome for Hope Inside Truth!” There was some scattered applause, and Connie surrendered the microphone.

I cleared my throat and took another breath. Here goes. “Um…” The screech of microphone feedback interrupted my sentence. I backed away from it, my voice suddenly feeling frozen. _Ican’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothis…_

I turned around, ready to bolt out of there-- and locked eyes with Mikasa. She smiled softly, dark eyes beaming, and nodded encouragingly. It coaxed a small smile from me.

I turned slowly, and wound up making eye contact with Eren. Eren grinned, a wide, bright smile that seemed to light up the whole room, and waved his hands towards the mic. _Go on,_ he mouthed.

I cleared my throat and returned to the mic. “Er… hi.” More giggles. I felt my face growing hot; pushing through the awkward feeling, I continued. “Um, this is my band--” I indicated the others with my hand-- “and, um, I guess you know our name already… so, um, I guess I don’t have to say it again.” More giggles. A few nods. I lowered my head to try and hide the blush I knew must have been staining my cheeks, and the microphone so that everyone could still hear me. “Um… maybe I should just play,” I muttered into it.

I heard some yeahs and one “Finally!” I cleared my throat again and curled my fingers around the neck of the guitar. “Um… this song is called We Are the Children.”

Mikasa clicked her drumsticks together. “One, two, three, four!”

The intro the song was loud and immediate. Well, as loud as it was allowed to be, anyway… we couldn’t exactly blast our amps in a diner. Nevertheless, I could feel a sense of power surging through my body as I played and sang… this was my favorite song, for precisely that reason. No matter where I was or how I felt, this song would always melt away my cares. It was the best song I’d ever written, in my opinion.

When the song died down, I waited with bated breath for the audience’s reaction: their jeers, or their boos, or…

Applause. I jerked my head up in shock: the audience was clapping, much more solidly than when we first came in.

_They… they like it?_

“Thank you,” I breathed into the microphone. “I… wow, um… we’ve got a few more we want to play. We hope you like those, too.” I announced the name of the next song, and we began again.

The rest of our set went just as smoothly. We all sounded amazing together: Mikasa’s drumming, especially, was just the right amount of crazy. Jean had an onstage presence that I hadn’t expected from him, jumping, writhing, and flailing as much as the stage would allow. I had expected Eren to be a bit wild (he didn’t disappoint), but Jean had always seemed so calm and serious.

The audience seemed to warm up to us as our show went on. The applause among the crowd steadily grew as we played. By the end of the show, we had earned ourselves a pretty solid round of applause, as well as a few whoops.

As we removed our instruments from the stage, I felt a rush coursing through my body. I couldn't stop smiling. I was so convinced I was going to mess up, but… they liked it. They actually liked us!

“Great job, you guys!” Connie came over to congratulate us. “Seems like the crowd really liked your stuff!”

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my head sheepishly. Receiving compliments was always awkward for me, but I tried to take Connie’s graciously. “I hope they did, it would be nice to play again.”

“Hopefully we’ll see you again.” Connie gave me a wink. “When you’re ready to play again, hit us up and we’ll make some room.”

“Sure.” I smiled gratefully, though timidly.

Before we could completely leave the stage, a voice sounded from across the room.

“Hey Yeags!”  


Eren face palmed and turned towards the voice. I followed his gaze, and saw a tall, dark-skinned woman with a mouth piercing approaching us, along with a petite blonde with a pink streak in her hair.

“Can you not call me that, Ymir?”

The dark woman laughed. “If I wanted to. It's your bad luck that I don't.” She tapped him on the arm with the side of her fist. “You and your friends got a pretty rad-sounding band. Glad I came to see.”

The blonde nodded. “You were all amazing! I loved the show!”

“Thanks, guys,” Eren said. I just blushed in response.

“So you gonna introduce us to your friends?”

“Of course.” He indicated each of us with his hand as he spoke. “This is Armin--” I raised a hand in greeting-- “Mikasa--” again, she nodded once-- “and… well, I wouldn’t call him a friend, but this is Jean.”

Jean ignored his jab, addressing the two women. “Good to meet you lovely ladies,” he said, bowing slightly and grinning.

The blonde giggled at his antics. Ymir just rolled her eyes, an amused smile on her face.

“This is Ymir--” Eren indicated her-- “and Krista.” He motioned to the blonde.

Ymir turned her gaze to me. “You've got a good voice on you, blondie. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you,” I said, ignoring being called “blondie” instead of my name.

“Do you guys have an album? Maybe we can pick up a copy of your CD.”

“Um… no, not yet.” _I’m scared my dad will see it somewhere and Mikasa barely managed to convince me to get us a Reverbnation profile_ , is what I did not say.

“Oh… well, let us know if you do!”

“We’ll be looking forward to it,” Ymir said, winking.

 

 

I sat in the living room alone, my earbuds back in my ears. I had left Mikasa and Eren in the kitchen-- Eren had tagged along to do some more catching up with his sister. Jean had gone home after an argument with Eren over whose playing had been better (wherein Eren had employed the term “bass player” as an insult, which caused Jean to laugh-- “weak comeback, Yeager.”) My eyes were cast downward, fixed on a random tile on the floor.

Our first show had been amazing-- the exhilaration I had felt playing for the diners had been unforgettable, and we had even given a couple of people our Reverbnation profile-- and yet I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. It wouldn’t be too long before my father returned from his trip, and then I would have to go back to hiding, back to secrecy… I didn’t know if we would be able to continue playing live after he came back. I wasn’t ready to give that up.

And yet I didn’t think I had much choice.

_What should I do…?_

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up and around. Mikasa stood behind me, eyes full of concern. It was only at that moment that I became aware of my intense staring at the tiles.

“Is something the matter?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“Is it the band? I know it will be hard to keep up when your father returns.”

Sometimes it felt like Mikasa was reading my mind. I couldn’t seem to hide anything from her. Or maybe I was just that obvious. I sighed. “Yeah… I really liked playing at the diner today. I know it was just one show, but… I don’t want it to end…”

Mikasa laid a hand on my shoulder. “Neither do I. I enjoyed performing with everyone.” 

She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll find a way to get past him. I know we will.”

I smiled. “I know. It’s just… what about Eren?”

“Hm?”

“What am I going to tell him?” Somehow, telling Eren that I had no backbone and couldn’t stand up to my father or tell him about this band didn’t seem like something I should divulge.

“Tell him what you think he needs to know. We can’t hide the truth from him forever.”  


“From who?”

The both of us turned around. Eren had joined us in the living room, a half-eaten sandwich held in his hand. I hadn’t even noticed him come in.

I wasn’t sure what to tell him. I doubted that he would have understood what was going on. I turned to Mikasa, my eyes forming one last plea for help. She only gave me a silent nod of encouragement.

“Eren… um, my dad is away. On business. When he gets back… well, we have to keep this band under wraps.”

“Why’s that?”

“He… doesn’t like this kind of music. Well, more than that: he hates it. He can’t know about this band, or he’d force us to break up. He’d never let me see Mikasa again… he might even throw me out of the house.”

Eren’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you serious? Your own father would throw you out… just because of your music taste?!”

I flinched slightly-- I had not expected Eren to raise his voice-- and nodded. “He would say that if I wanted to become some street thug, then I could go and live in the streets with the rest of the rats. He says that all rock music is good for is turning kids into criminals, and that he refuses to see me ‘destroy’ myself with this music.” A mixture of emotions swirled through my body as I told the story: anger, fear, despair; my body began shaking, and I balled my fists on my lap. A hand laid itself on my shoulder, and I relaxed into Mikasa’s touch. “I can’t… I can’t tell him anything. That’s why we haven’t had any shows until now… I’m terrified he’ll find out somehow.” I braced myself when I was done speaking, waiting for Eren to laugh or call me a coward or whatever taunt he was going to throw my way, maybe even say he was leaving the band…

Instead of any of that, I felt a hand on top of mine. I looked up and met Eren’s eyes. They were burning, a turquoise-green inferno, and the expression on his face looked both slightly enraged and determined, as though he had just been glaring at something.

“I’ll help you out, then. I won’t say a word.”

My eyes widened slightly. “You will…?”

“I was kind of in the same boat once,” he replied, briefly flashing Mikasa a pointed look as he spoke. “Plus, after I left home, I got pretty good at sneaking around; I think I can keep us hidden.”

“You really think we can?”

“Or my name isn’t Eren Yeager.” He gave a look of mock curiosity. “I mean, I don’t think 

I’ve changed it recently… I should really look that up.”

Mikasa and I both giggled. Mikasa went to Eren and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll be glad to have your help. Whatever you can do.”

Eren smirked. “A lot, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I reckon this chapter is good enough for human scrutiny.
> 
> Either Hope Inside Truth is a great name, or a crummy one. I'll let you guys decide.
> 
> Personal trivia: I'm a poet/lyricist myself, so I combed through my notebooks for one of my poems to get their song title.
> 
> Chapter title is a reference to Eren's line to Armin, itself a reference to the song by The Offspring. Nothing really to do with the chapter, but that song's awesome.


	9. Never Give In

“Alright… so did you bring a plan to go with all that grandstanding?”

We had a rehearsal the day after Eren agreed to help us, and Mikasa had brought back up the subject of sneaking me out of the house to play shows, filling him in that we’d discussed the subject of my father with Eren. I hoped that Eren, or any one of us, could come up with a new idea that we hadn’t already discarded.

“Armin’s dad’s never home, right? Why not just mostly accept shows during the hours he’s gone?”

“If it were that easy, we would have done it already, Sherlock,” Jean refuted irritably.

“Armin’s dad calls him a lot… if he called while we were at a show, he’d hear the noise and Armin would be in trouble,” Mikasa explained more calmly.

“Damn… maybe lie and say he’s at after-school tutoring or the library or something?”

I shook my head. “He calls me there, too… the only time he won’t check in on me is when school is actually in session. He hasn’t called much this month because the presentation is taking up a lot of time, so he’s been texting mostly.”

“We thought about saying he was going out with us, but if we do that too many times, Armin’s dad might get suspicious. He might think Armin was ditching his homework,” Mikasa continued. “And still, there’s the calling.”

Eren stared out pensively, his hand over his mouth in thought. “Maybe…” I wondered what he was thinking of saying. He slowly looked back up, victory in his eyes, and turned to me.

“Armin, what time do you go to bed?”

“Um…” The question stunned me a little. “About nine or ten… why?”

“We’ll do late night shows! We’ll probably still be playing the diner for a little while anyway… just stay overnight with someone, and then from there we can all just run to the diner! Then nobody will be lying when they tell your dad you’re staying with someone.”

“Beautiful idea, Wonderboy. Now tell me, did you really think we didn't already try that too? I tried my place, but my mom won't lie for us.”

Eren blinked. His shoulders slumped at being shot down. “I haven’t got a place for him to stay… what are we gonna do?” He rested his chin in his hands.

“This is why we haven’t played any live shows. It’s too difficult to get me out.”

“Figures Magic Man doesn’t have a solution… what good are you anyway?”

“Hey! At least I tried!”

“We don’t need ‘trying,’ we need a solution. If ‘trying’ was all we needed, we’d be famous and Armin would be living in a swanky apartment downtown.”

“You mind turning off the sarcasm for four seconds, Kirshtein? I already feel badly enough.”

“You wouldn’t have to feel so bad if you’d come up with a halfway decent plan, would you?”

“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas!”

“That’s because I already proposed all your half-baked ideas, and obviously they don't work!”

I buried my head in my hands as Eren and Jean continued to bicker. This was turning out to be awful. I could see it now, the four of us trapped in whoever’s parents were letting us use their space for the day, all the while losing opportunities for a potential audience by the day…

“Wait.” Mikasa’s voice was soft, but carried through the room. Even Eren and Jean heard her over their bickering, and had stopped to look to her.

“We can do this. We’ve got one more chance. But…” she stared straight into Eren’s eyes. “You have to talk to Uncle Keith.”

Eren’s expression appeared more as if Mikasa had asked him to sever his right arm. “No… I can’t.”

“I know how you feel, Eren. I know you two fought a lot. But you have to talk to him.”

“But he--!”

She laid a hand on top of his. “Eren. Just talk to him. At least come to have dinner with us. It’ll be easier to get him to help us if you ask him; he wants your forgiveness. At least try, for the band.”

He stared carefully at Mikasa, as though trying to determine something. Then he turned to me, a question in his eyes. Somehow I had a feeling of what it was he was asking me.

Green met blue as I looked at him. I knew I was willing to try anything. I wanted to keep making music, to play for people. It made me happy, and I wanted to make other people happy.

“Please, Eren.”

He took a deep breath, released it, and ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”

Mikasa smiled. I relaxed with a breath. “Jean? Is that okay with you?” Mikasa asked.

Jean looked conflicted for a few moments. Finally he said, resignedly, “I guess if you guys are okay with it, we can try.”

“We should talk to him before Dad gets home. After one of our next shows,” I said.

“When is our next show, actually?” Mikasa asked.

“Whenever Armin decides to call Sasha,” Eren replied, smirking.

I sighed to hide the worry building in my stomach. “Can’t you do it this time, Eren?”

He just laughed. “Come on, you’ve talked to Sasha before. She’s not gonna bite. She can’t over the phone, anyway.”

I smiled, the joke being strangely reassuring. “I guess I can try…”

 

“If you're not calm right now, calm down and call me back. I happen to like my cochlea.”

I laughed lightly at Sasha’s joke. “No, I'm okay.”

“You ready to play again already?”

“Well… kind of. I don't know when, though.”

“Will next Saturday be good? Ought to give you guys time to practice.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright, it’s on then! Let me know if anything changes.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Great. See you then. And don’t talk too much, you need to save your voice.”

I laughed again. “Alright, I won’t.”

“See you Saturday.” She hung up.

I smiled at how easy that was this time. 

“See? That wasn't so bad.” Eren laid a hand on my head. The contact was strangely comforting.

We returned to the group in the den to let them know what happened. Mikasa and Jean both approved of the date and time.

“The only thing I’m worried about is if Sir Off-Key over here will really be up to snuff for the next performance.”

Eren bristled at the remark. I thought that Jean was exaggerating a little-- Eren _had_ missed a few notes during one of our songs, but it wasn't grating enough to drive away the audience.

“My playing was fine.” Eren spoke through gritted teeth. 

Jean scoffed at him. “If you’d have made any more mistakes, animal control would have shown up and tried to put that poor cat out of its misery.”

“You’re one to talk, you sounded--”

“-- perfect. Yes, thank you.”

“‘Drunk’ was what I was about to say.”

“Dream on, Yeager, I was perfection personified. You were a walking disaster."

“Jean Kirshtein you little--!”

“Eren, Jean, please,” I said, before Eren could finish his sentence. The two of them really did have a few issues they needed to work on, but I didn’t want them fighting amongst themselves about it. Neither of them would improve if they spent half of the rehearsal time yelling at each other.

I sighed and continued, “Eren, your playing was fine. But you do need to practice Darkness a little more. You missed a few notes last time.”

For a few moments, Eren looked a bit dejected. Then he set his face and raised a clenched fist. “You’ve got it!”

“And Jean… you do need to concentrate more. You missed your cue on a couple of songs.”

Jean nodded, averting his eyes. “I’ll work on it.”

“Okay. I’ll work on my playing too.”

“You don't need to. You're great already,” Jean quipped.

I shook my head. “There’s always room for improvement. I can’t neglect practice for ego.”

“We should probably get started now,” Mikasa said.

 

The day finally came to play our second show. I couldn't say that I wasn't still anxious.

Sure, our first show was amazing, and I’d done far better than I thought I would. And yet, even so, I couldn't help the creeping performance anxiety that was slowly rising inside of me.

Our first show was absolutely amazing. Save for a few errors, we’d played quite well. But could we-- could I-- repeat that performance?

I wasn't entirely sure that I could.

I sat in the taxi, biting my nails. Everyone else had already gone into the restaurant, but I didn't want to get out. My mind refused to think anything but the worst.

_They’ll hate my playing. I’m going to ruin the whole performance. Mikasa’s going to hate me and so’s Eren and the whole band is going to fall apart…_

“Armin?”  
I looked to my right. Eren had opened the door, and was looking at me with concern. The sun was shining on the back of his head, so I could see hints of brown in his black hair. Perhaps I had misjudged his hair color.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, my eyes cast down to my lap.

“Nerves?”

I nodded again.

A hand wrapped itself around my wrist, and I felt a tug at my arm. “You’ll be all right. You did great the first time, I’m sure you'll be fine today, too.”

“What if I’m not?” I faced Eren again, my eyes pleading with him.

He shrugged. “Then you messed up.” This actually didn't help me in any capacity. But before I could pull away and hide in the cab again, “and we’ll try again at the next show. Stuff happens, especially when you're kinda new at it. But it’s no reason to give up.” He gave my wrist a squeeze. The only way you'll know for sure what’ll happen is to go out there and knock ‘em dead.” He gave me a small smile.

I smiled back and let him lead me out of the car and into the diner.

When we were on stage, I swallowed as I finally took up the mic. “Um…” I began.

There were less people here today than the last time we played, but I still found it a bit difficult to speak. The audience watched me curiously, waiting to see what I would say.

I took a deep breath and gripped the neck of my guitar tightly. I had to go on. What Eren said to me in the cab came back to me.

_Knock ‘em dead._

Right. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’d disappoint Mikasa more if I ran than if I just went on.

I cleared my throat. “We’re, um, Hope Inside Truth, and, um… this song is called Cruel Immortality. I hope you all like it.”

“One, two, three, four!”

I loved playing this song at practice. I had always intended it to have an ethereal sound, like a gothic choir. With the addition of Eren’s cello, I felt like I had finally gotten the sound I wanted out of this song.

Though the lyrics were quite pained-- tortured, even-- the melody was aggressive and action-oriented. It was practically abuse towards all our instruments, and I loved every minute of it.

The melody died down to the final crash cymbal and the last long guitar note. I looked up at the audience to see how they would react.

They looked… frightened. It was the same look I imagine was on my face the first time Mikasa dared to sneak me over to a Memphis May Fire concert.

Even so, they all clapped politely for the show. I smiled, a blush creeping up my face.

“Thank you. We’re glad you liked it. That’s one of the songs I like playing most.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Um, this next song is called…”

 

The rest of the show was even better than the first.

I had a little bit of an easier time talking to the audience between songs; before, I would simply announce the next song and move on. Now I was offering minor anecdotes about the songs, some of which earned a few laughs. I wasn’t perfect by any means; I still stammered, I’d stop sentences halfway, and occasionally I’d forget where I was going with an idea halfway through it and have to stop. However, our performance was superb, and the audience seemed engaged.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of euphoria as we left the stage that night. Everything was going so well, and our music was still flowing through my blood.

Nothing could bring down my mood. Normally I would have immediately started worrying about something, but for some reason… for some reason I was feeling strangely optimistic. 

Perhaps because-- and I was sure I was jumping to conclusions here, but I couldn’t bring myself to care-- I was beginning to feel like I really could do this if I wanted.

As I fell asleep in the cab on the way home, I thought to myself... maybe the way our shows were going was a sign that everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you had any idea how much I rewrote this chapter... now it's more detailed than it was before, but it's turned into filler. Oh well.
> 
> Chapter titles is after a song by Black Veil Brides. That's right, I like Black Veil Brides.


	10. ... Or Be Taken Out Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Here we go.
> 
> I disappeared again. I'm sorry. Stuff happened in my life. Instead of boring you with all the sordid details and making excuses, I'm going to shut up and give you your chapter. Enjoy.

“Armin. Wake up, we’re back.”

Mikasa’s voice, as well as a gentle shake of my shoulder, roused me from my sleep. I yawned, and as I did so, I felt something underneath my right temple. Glancing sideways, I saw Eren out of the corner of my eye, sound asleep, his face almost directly above my head. Casting my eyes downwards, black wool greeted my gaze.

Resisting the urge to bolt upwards, I instead rose slowly from his shoulder, then gingerly shook him awake.

“... uh? Are we there yet?”

“Yeah. We’re back.”

“Oh.” Eren yawned widely and followed me out of the car, which had stopped in front of my building. Mikasa paid the driver, and he sped off into the night.

“I gotta be getting back home,” Jean announced, when the cab had gone. “See you guys later?”

Mikasa inclined her head. “We’ll let you know when the next practice is.”

“You got it.” He gave a casual salute and started to leave, but then stopped and turned back to me.

“Armin, uh…” He looked as if he were struggling to find something to say. “... you did great out there.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Well… see you later.” He turned and left.

The remaining three of us went inside the building and to my apartment. Eren and I took seats on the couch; Mikasa announced she was going to make us some sandwiches and retreated to the kitchen, leaving Eren and I alone.

There was silence for several moments. I found this unusual; Eren nearly always had something to say. I glanced over at him; he was staring at the floor with the same pensive look I saw him with on the platform.

“Eren? Is something wrong?”

He looked up at me and shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He had a small smile on his face as he said it, but it looked sad and forced.

“You seem… scared. Of something.”

He turned around to face me. “What makes you think that?”

“I don't know, you're awfully quiet.”

He sighed and looked away. “I’m not scared, it's just… I don't think I can see him. I can’t talk to him.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yeah. After what he did, I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I can do this. I don't even know if he really wants to talk to me.”

“Mikasa seems sure he does.”

“Mikasa just wants me to talk to him. She’d say anything.” He didn't sound too sure.

“I don't think Mikasa’s the type of person to lie.”

“I didn't say she was lying, I just… I don't know. I just don't want you guys to have to suffer just because we can't get along.”

It took me a few moments to figure out what to say to him. I was sure he needed some sort of reassurance or encouragement, but I wasn’t sure if I had anything to give him.

… but he did.

“How do you know that that's what’s going to happen?”

“Didn't I tell you? He doesn't want me around…”

“What if he does? What if he wants to apologize?”

He laughed skeptically. “No way. He never apologizes for anything.”

“You can’t really know for sure until you go out there and find out for yourself. You might prove yourself wrong.”

“What if I don’t? What if it turns out I’m right?”

I shrugged. “Then you messed up. And we’ll just have to try something else. We can’t give up, not now.”

He blinked at me for a moment, as though he couldn't believe I was saying these things. Honestly, I was a bit surprised myself. But soon a smile spread across his face, and he ruffled my hair.

“I hate to say it, but I guess you’re right. Okay then, I’ll talk to him.”

“I’ll be there with you.” We both whipped around; neither of us noticed Mikasa return to the room, a plate of sandwiches in her hands. “You won’t be alone.”

I nodded to her, smiling, then turned back to Eren. “Yeah. I’ll be there too.”

“Thanks, you guys.” He closed his eyes. “I hope it works out.” He sounded worried, but there was still a hint of a smile on his face.

Mikasa patted his shoulder. “It will.”

 

The next morning, just as I’d finished dressing, a buzzing sound coming from my dresser caught my attention. I pulled out my phone to read the text message, likely from my father.

 

_**Dad**  
Negotiations went better than expected. I should be home in about a week or two. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way._

My heart stopped. I could feel my throat tightening. No, no, no, this can’t be, this is way too soon, we just got started playing…

I shakily typed out, _Congratulations, glad it went well. Can’t wait to see you back,_ and then let my phone drop to the floor as my hand went limp.

I backed away from the drawer, dazed and unsteady. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt like I couldn't even see in front of me… everything around me no longer felt real.

I had moved to my couch and was still staring at nothing when Mikasa came in and threw her jacket on the couch. Well, I think it actually landed on my head… I was still only processing the bare minimum of the physical world. 

“Oh, Armin… I’m sorry about that, I…” She stopped mid-sentence. I heard footsteps, and felt fabric lifted off my face, Mikasa’s own replacing it. Her eyes were widened slightly in concern.  
“Armin? Is something the matter?”

I stared straight into her eyes, feeling my entire world shattering before me. My body began to tremble. I swallowed and tried to speak.

“My dad… his negotiations went through. He’s coming home in a week.” My voice came out hoarse and shaky.

Mikasa couldn’t hide the shock in her features even if she were trying to. “Really? Already?”

I simply pointed at my phone in response. Mikasa picked it up and, after turning the screen back on, read the message my father composed.

She drew closer and put her hands on my shoulders. “Stay calm. Remember, we planned for this… Eren and Sasha agreed to help, we’ll be fine.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if this is going to work… he’ll find out… I can’t do this…”

“Armin. We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” She said the words gently, but firmly.

“I can’t. I can’t make it work. I’ll ruin everything… I should never have tried this…”

She grabbed my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “There’s no reason to believe that. I know you know that, even if you can’t see it right now. We’ve come too far to give up now.”

I opened my mouth, paused, and then shut it again. I’d wanted to dispute her further, but I knew she was right. In such a short amount of time, our band had gotten further than it ever had before. We were playing shows now, and more people were following our music, albeit a small trickle. I couldn’t just throw away all of our progress up to this point to give up now.

And yet…

“What if I really can’t do it? What if I make us fail?”

“You’re not going to make us fail, Armin. I believe in you, and Eren does too. Even Jean does. And if it doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean we can’t try again another time. All we can do is to keep trying.”

"I..." I swallowed back the tears that were trying to escape my eyes. "I don't want to hold us back..."

"Armin." I raised my head slowly to meet her eyes. "You can only fail if you quit. If you don't give up, you can't fail."

A strange warmth spread through my body at the words. Having met Eren, I realized in this moment how much she sounded like him. Had she been where he'd gotten his attitude from? Or was it the other way around?

I couldn’t stop a small smile from spreading across my face. She was right; she was always right. All I could do-- all any of us could do-- was to keep fighting, or else be taken out alive.

“Alright. I’ll keep trying.”

She didn’t say anything else, just patted my hand before heading towards the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a question for you guys: are my chapters too short? I feel like I have a problem with not writing enough meat in my stories. I read like millions of books, and I have no shortage of ideas, but the actual writing is a different story... I feel like I've gotten a bit rusty.
> 
> So drop me a line in the comments... what do you think? I need all your criticism, good, bad, or ugly (though I am going to need more than "your story sucks," just so you know.)
> 
> Chapter title is part of a line from Icon For Hire's Fight. You're going to find out very soon exactly how much I love Icon For Hire.


	11. I'm Not Feeling This Situation

“Seriously?!” Eren sounded as panicked as if he’d woken up to find that both of his feet had been amputated.

Mikasa nodded somberly. “If we’re going to enact our plan, it has to be now.”

“Oh man…” Eren slumped into one of the chairs in the dining room. “This is… why did this… I thought I would have more time…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen so soon either.” I reached out to touch him and try to console him, but I hesitated. I was never particularly comfortable with touching or being touched by people I don’t know. 

Granted, I knew Eren much better now, yet I still couldn't bring myself to lay a hand on him. I lowered my arm before anyone could take notice.

Eren rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. I looked at him in silence, not knowing what I should say. I swallowed and tried to speak.

“Eren…”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I just… I need to be alone right now.”

“Eren, are you sure--?” Mikasa began.

“Yeah… I need to process this. Just… go.”

He was stiff, unmoving, almost like a statue. Mikasa spoke again. “Eren..."

“Mikasa, _please._ ” He fixed her with a look of desperation. “Don’t argue with me right now. Just go.”

Mikasa hesitated for another minute, and then finally walked out, slowly, with one final look back at him. Unable to think of what to say to him, I followed her not long after.

She took a seat on the living room couch, and I sat on the other end. I couldn't help but reflect on Eren’s posture, his stiff muscles, the fear in his eyes…

It reminded me of how I often got by the time I met Mikasa; whenever I got bullied, or had a fight with my dad, I would often lock myself in my room, struggling to breathe, trying to control, nay, erase the negative thoughts flowing through my head.

It was how I still was when I had to sleep alone.

“Mikasa…” She turned to me. “Is Eren going to be okay?”

“... I think so.” She sounded unsure. “The pressure is a bit hard on him, but I’d know if he were going to do something dangerous.”

“Was it that hard living with his uncle?”

Mikasa nodded. “They fought practically every day. Mostly about Eren's music. Uncle Keith just wouldn’t let go of that whole ‘wrong genre’ idea. I think Eren is scared… not of Uncle Keith, but of talking to him. I think he just doesn't want another argument. Eren, he… he’ll stand up for what he loves, but even he gets tired sometimes. He just doesn’t want to deal with the stress.” 

I couldn't say I blamed him.

“So basically, he’s just gonna mope around in there and none of us is going to say a word?” Jean had been sitting in a chair across from the couch while we had been talking to Eren. He’d been in the same spot when we came back in.

Mikasa glared at him. “Jean, he’s upset. He needs to be alone to gather himself.”

He shot out of his seat. “No, he doesn't,” he said, before heading to the kitchen.

“Jean, leave him alone,” Mikasa snapped, but Jean continued forward. I immediately feared for his safety: ignoring the commands of an already-angry Mikasa was the equivalent of climbing to the top of the Empire State Building in an aluminum foil suit and daring the lightning to hit you.

Mikasa got up and followed him, and I went along as well, as if I thought I could stop anything if tensions rose too high.

Jean stood across from Eren and slammed both his hands on the table, catching Eren’s attention.

“Hey, Yeager! Wake up!”

Eren snapped his head up. “What do you want?” He spat at him.

“I want this band to have a future, so you’re going to stop sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not letting you ruin this band’s chances of success just because you’re too much of a coward to talk to your uncle. You already said you were going to, so get over yourself!”

Eren shot out of his seat. “Don't call me a coward! You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“I don't care either! I call people as I see them, and right now I see you hiding in the damn kitchen ‘cause you're scared of having a conversation. Therefore, you're a coward.”

Eren gritted his teeth and balled his fists, his hands shaking. He looked like he was ready to flay Jean alive, and if my already-feeble attempts to hold Mikasa back failed anytime soon, he might've actually died.

“So? Are you going to prove me wrong or walk out with your tail between your legs?”

Eren raised a fist, ready to pummel Jean. But after about a quarter of a minute, he slammed it back on the table.

“Mikasa. The night after tomorrow.” He was still glowering at Jean when he said it.

“Huh?” Mikasa's dagger stare at Jean turned into a crestfallen glance towards Eren.

“After our next show. Just give me that last night, and take me to Uncle Keith after.” 

“Eren, you don't have to rush anything…”

“No.” Eren turned his attention to Mikasa now, his face converted to a tenacious stare. “As much as I want to punch your bassist in the throat, he’s right. If I keep procrastinating, our plan will never get off the ground. So I’ll go ahead and get it over with.” He strode back into the living room, shoving the kitchen door open hard.

Mikasa turned back to Jean, her face livid. She seemed to be forcing herself to remain calm. “Thank you,” she said tightly.

Jean grinned, a little nervously. “I figured that ought to give him a jump start.

“But you still could have been less obstinate about it,” Mikasa snapped. “He had a hard time back then, and he’s afraid. We could have lost him because of you, just like we lost Marco. Obviously you still don't think before you act.” She stormed away from him.

Jean looked like she’d shot an arrow into his chest, pulled it out, and stabbed him with it. He stared at me, his eyes full of desperation. I could only give him an apologetic look before following Mikasa out.

Because the truth was, she was wrong and right at the same time.

 

Eren sat on the couch, half-seething. Mikasa sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Eren reached over and patted her hand with his. “Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure? I know Jean can be a bit cantankerous sometimes…”

“You're right about that.” Eren laughed softly. “But it's okay. Like I said, he was right anyway. And anyway, I would've cold clocked him if he would have went too far.”

Mikasa giggled. “Then we wouldn't have a bass player.”

“Pfft, who needs bass players? Nobody pays attention to them anyway.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Seriously, though, I’m okay. Go on ahead and practice or whatever.”

Satisfied, she patted his shoulder before leaving the room. I stood there, unsure of what to do: I wanted simultaneously to sit back down on the couch and check my homework, and follow Mikasa to wherever she was going. 

“It's still your house, you know: you can sit here,” Eren joked. He must have seen me staring at the couch cushions.

“Oh… yeah, I know, but… I didn't want to bother you…”

He just laughed. “I’m not going to bite you, do what you want.”

Slowly, I walked over to the couch and sat down. I opened my bag and pulled out a pencil… and dropped it. It rolled into one of the spaces between the couch cushions.

I lunged for it, and missed my mark, my hand finding Eren’s instead.

“Sorry, I was…” I made to pull my hand away.

Eren reached out and closed his hand around mine, stopping me. Heat rose to my face when he did so.

This turned the situation awkward rather quickly. For me, anyway. I hadn’t really held anyone’s hand before now, or vice versa. Mikasa's, maybe, but she and I were practically childhood friends. I just met Eren.

Eren seemed to be experiencing none of this. He stared at our hands for a few moments, in curiosity, before slowly shifting the position of his hand, ghosting his fingers around my hand as though he were exploring some unfamiliar new object. When our palms touched, he slid his fingers between mine, lacing them together.

I found myself debating whether to keep my hand there or not. On one end, the whole thing was really awkward. On the other, it didn't particularly bother me. It was actually kind of nice.

At some point, I swallowed and pulled my hand away. I tried to banish the heat from my cheeks, which was about as successful as my attempt to remember what I wanted to do before that point. Which was, not at all.

Eren spoke before I could. He pulled my pencil out of the couch cushions and held it up. “This what you were looking for?”

Unable to speak, I nodded. He handed me the pencil, and I took it shakily.

“Homework?” He said. I nodded again. _That was what I was looking for before…._

“If you need any help with it, I might be able to give you a few pointers. Unless it’s history. I sucked at history in school, it was too boring.”

I laughed a little at that. “Thank you.”

The heat in my face still wouldn't go away. I couldn't even decipher why it was there.

 

I still felt the sensation of Eren’s hand on mine long after the moment passed. I spent most of the day trying to figure out why, running on autopilot all throughout rehearsal. I was sure Eren wasn’t thinking about it-- why did it bother me so much?

It wasn't until we were on stage at Sasha's restaurant and about to perform that I forced myself to fully reconnect to reality.

I cleared my throat before I began, finding myself strangely unconcerned with the small but enthusiastic gathering before me. Although I was becoming more comfortable with them as I played more shows, I still often found myself with a tightness in my stomach, a twinge of fear and inadequacy anxiety. This time, however, I strode almost straight up to the microphone and launched immediately into a speech.

“Thank you all for coming. We’re Hope Inside Truth, and we’re going to put on the best show we’ve got. We hope you enjoy yourselves tonight.” I slung my guitar in front of me. “Our first song is… well, it’s not really our song, but we hope you like it anyway.” With no further preamble, we launched straight into a Bullet For My Valentine cover. I actually thought Eren’s cello made a great addition to the song. Jean hadn’t been too sure, but we’d ended up out-voting him.

The rest of the songs in the set were all originals. A power ballad, a somber tune, a few written in anger, all were among those included in our set. Despite my best attempts, we couldn't make room for the cello in all of them, so when a song came up which lacked it, Eren simply thrashed around until it was his turn to play again.

Whenever I looked into the audience after a song, I got a bit of a feeling that if this were a studio or concert hall, the crowd would have gone wild. As it was, more than a few whoo’s could be heard in the midst of the applause.

After the show, some of the people watching had approached us, complimenting us on the show, and we gave them our Reverbnation profile. I stole a glance at Eren; he had lost his energy once more and adopted that dangerously pensive stare, putting up his cello as though he had switched into autopilot. He was muttering something under his breath.

“Eren…?”

He jumped, apparently caught off guard, and whipped around to face me. He relaxed when he saw it was just me. “You scared the life out of me just now, I didn't know anybody was behind me.”

“Sorry about that.” I paused. “I, well… I just wanted to make sure you were okay…”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed off my comment. “Geez, you’re starting to remind me of Mikasa. You two are going to end up nagging me to death.”

“I just want to make sure--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I promise you, I’ll be fine. This was all unexpected, but I can do this. I have to do this.”

I could detect a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Are you scared?”

He averted his eyes, biting his lip. “Yeah. A little.”

“Was it that bad?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence. I couldn't find any other words to say. He didn't seem to want to talk about it either. But I still felt like I had to comfort him somehow.

“Where do you go? After practice and stuff?” I needed a change of subject, and I was genuinely interested, since he never really talked much about where he lived.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “Nowhere in particular… I ride around, see what’s interesting, then I just find a place to crash for the night.”

“... find a place?”

“Yeah. There’s this great hotel I like, but boy, are they expensive. So sometimes I stay at the Harlem Y, sometimes a shelter, or if worst comes to worst, I’ll hide out in the train station.”

_So… he’s homeless…_

“That sounds hard.”

“Pfft. It’s nothing once you get used to it.” He waved a dismissive hand. “As long I’ve still got music… take that away, and you may as well shoot me in the face.” His lips curled into a fond smile. “Oh, and my bike, of course. Can’t get anywhere without that.”

“What else do you do? When we’re not playing any shows?”

“I teach cello freelance on the side.”

“That seems like fun.”

“Oh, it is. It’s amazing.” Passion now flooded his green eyes. “It’s like another new adventure when I get a new client. And getting to share something I love, seeing someone else become passionate about it… there isn’t another feeling like it.”

There was a short pause as Eren became lost in bliss, and I tried to figure out something to say.

“... do you want to stay over?”

It came out a murmur. And I had no clue why I said it. Not only was it wildly off base, that had to be the most unnatural sentence for me, personally, to have vocalized. Ever.

“Huh?” Eren sounded confused. He must not have heard me.

I cleared my throat. “Do you… want to stay over? At my apartment? Mikasa’ll be there too.” Saying that felt simultaneously like I was pulling out my own vocal cords and like I was vomiting the words out.

Eren looked just as surprised as I felt. He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble or anything…” I didn't realize until he declined that I really wanted him to accept. For some reason. 

“No, I don’t want to intrude or anything--”

“No, you wouldn’t be, not at all! I mean, it’d be fine. If you want to… I mean, if you don’t, I…”

A small smile crossed Eren’s face. “Well, since you’re so persistent, alright. It might be fun.”

I just smiled back, unable to form any more words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie, plot!
> 
> Trivia: this chapter was actually kind of slow until something in my brain clicked and said "stupid, use Jean."
> 
> Also, I may have lied. There may be a tweak to Eren's backstory coming.
> 
> Chapter title is a line from Bullet For My Valentine's All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me). (And for some reason, it's looking like BFMV is becoming Armin's favorite band. It was supposed to be Icon For Hire. Why do you disobey me, you little gesumin?)


	12. Is Your Smile Still Beautiful If You Hide Your True Self?

When we got back to the apartment, Mikasa immediately pushed Eren and I into a pair of chairs at the table. “I know I haven’t been doing it for the past few days,” she said, tying her hair back, “but both of you are getting a proper meal tonight.”

This didn’t particularly bother me. Mikasa usually cooked for me when Dad was away somewhere, and she was good at it. Eren didn't seem disagreeable to the idea either.

“What is it?” He asked her.

“Looks like Armin’s father has a lot of orange roughy here… so I guess we’re going with some of that.”

“Awesome! Man, I missed your seafood dishes.”

A smirk crossed Mikasa’s face. “Thank you.”

An hour later, the three of us were seated at the table, feasting on Mikasa’s baked roughy, brown rice, and cheesy cauliflower. As we ate, I listened as the two of them talked about the people they knew in their childhood.

“Do you and Samuel still hang out at all?”

“Not as much as we used to. He went to a different school… he wanted to study law.”

“Really? Wow… I could see him making a good lawyer, though.”

“I can as well… he’s compassionate, but objective, and quite convincing.”

“Yeah, he could probably get Charles Manson off.”

“Don’t be naïve, Eren, he’s not a magician. Besides, why would you want him to get Charles Manson off?”

“Just to try it. They can just stick him back in later, right?”

“After they’ve convicted him of about fifty more murders. Congratulations, you just got a bunch of innocent people killed.”

“I didn't do it, Samuel did.”

Mikasa slapped the back of his head, but that did nothing to stop his laughter. Even I had to giggle at the goings-on. I thought I might enjoy hanging out with the two of them together.

“Is there anybody else still here?”

“Franz and Hannah still hang out at the skate park,” she began, counting off on her fingers. “Then there’s Thomas, Mina, Zachary-- no, wait, Thomas’s family moved to California…”

“They finally got to go, eh? I’m happy for them, they deserved it.”

“They did all seem quite pleased when they left. I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah, I will too.”

I actually had some idea of the people they were talking about, though we didn’t speak much. Samuel went to middle school with Mikasa and I, and I met Thomas the day he moved. Both were kinder to me than I had expected.

The two continued their conversation, and I merely listened to their colorful stories. It seemed that they had had quite a few adventures, even after all the trouble started at their home. It made me feel a tad envious… though I had fun when I was with Mikasa, I could never do as much as I wanted to for having to sneak around. Their stories featured none of that; the two seemed to have been truly free.

It made me wonder once more why she was my friend. Did she merely feel sorry for me? Was it because I was pathetic?

“Armin?”

I looked up. Mikasa was looking at me concernedly, as was Eren.

“Hey, something up? You’ve got this look in your eyes…”

I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? I can get you something--”

“No. It’s okay. Really.” I flashed her a small smile.

Instead of smiling back, she rose and returned to the stove area, grabbing a teapot from one of the cabinets and filling it with water. Minutes later, she returned with a hot cup of mint tea.

“That should help you to relax a little.”

I inhaled the scent. It was rather calming. “Thanks, Mikasa.”

“Still playing mom, eh?” Eren smirked at her.

“I don’t _play_ when someone's distressed, Eren,” Mikasa said, slightly irritated.

“Still?” I was intrigued.

“Yeah, once she’s close to someone, she thinks she’s your mother. She does it to me the most.” He put on a high-pitched voice. “‘Eren, are you eating enough? Eren, you’re not getting enough sleep. Eren, you need to exercise. Eren, stop making trouble. Eren--’ OW!”

Mikasa had pinched his arm hard, twisting the skin for extra effect, giving him a withering stare. “Forgive me for caring about your wellbeing,” she said, her tone quiet and dangerous.

“That’s gonna bruise, you know,” Eren complained, rubbing his arm where Mikasa had pinched it.

“Good, then you’ll remember what you learned every time you look at it.”

I giggled at the scene. “That’s why I don’t anger Mikasa too often.” I pulled up my shirtsleeves to show my bruise-free arms.

“Humph, easy for you… you probably just sit there quietly being smart.”

“Huh?”

“I saw one of your report cards on the floor. I thought it was something else, so I picked it up… one A-plus, five A’s, and a B-plus? I wish I could have pulled grades like that in school.”

“You could have if you’d studied more,” Mikasa interjected. “Your grades weren't bad.”

“Says the walking encyclopedia who practically inhales all her books.”

“I simply read the material. I am no different from anyone else.”

I lost track of the conversation somewhere around that point. I couldn’t help but think of the things Eren had said. About me, about Mikasa… I wanted to believe them. Objectively, I did. And yet…

I took a swig of my tea to try to drown the inevitable contrasting voices in my head. Too fast of a swig-- it burned in my throat, and some of it spilled into my windpipe, causing me to choke.

Eren reached over the table and thumped me on the back. After a little while, the coughing subsided. “Thank you.”

We finished our meal and returned to the living room to watch movies on Netflix. Halfway through _The Time Traveler’s Wife_ , I heard Mikasa say my name and turned to her.

“I can’t stay over tonight. Uncle Keith just texted me… he needs me back home.”

“Oh… y-yeah, that’s fine.” That was a lie. I was actually terrified.

“I’m sorry, Armin. I wanted to stay…”

“It’s okay… really. Take care of whatever it is… don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure you'll be okay?”

"Yeah. I’ll manage.” Since Dad’s not home, maybe the TV might help.

Before leaving, Mikasa gave Eren and I each a hug. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Please take care of yourself.” The last was directed towards me. I nodded.

When Mikasa had gathered her things and disappeared out the front door, Eren turned to me.

“What was that all about?”

I paused. Should I tell him? What if he laughs at me?

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don't want to.” He stood up, ruffling my hair. “I’m going to get some more of Mikasa's roughy, that stuff was good.”

That was the part I was having trouble with. Did I want to tell him? Was I ready to give up a secret like that?

_"She seems pretty nice, Armin. I think she'd be a good friend for you, at least."_

_Marco and I were hanging out in the Village. He had taken me to a rock club he liked over there. A short girl with mousy hair had started a conversation with the two of us; as usual, Marco had done all the talking. She had written down her phone number and left it at the counter where we were sitting._

_I shook my head at him. "I'm not that great at talking to new people. Besides, I think she'd rather talk to you."_

_"I don't know, she did say she thought you were cute."_

_"... she wasn't talking about me."_

_Marco sighed. "Armin, you've got to stop that."_

_"Stop what?" I asked, a bit defensively._

"Thinking people only ever have bad things to say about you. You're a great person, there's plenty to love about you."

_"No one else thinks so."_

_"If that were true, I wouldn't be your friend. Mikasa wouldn't either."_

_I remained silent at that. I still couldn't even figure out why she or Marco wanted to be around me._

_"... you still don't really trust us, do you?"_

_"O-of course I do! I trust you guys with my life!"_

_"But not your heart. After all this time, you still think we're just going to walk out on you?"_

_I cast my eyes down to the counter. "I'm sorry."_

_Marco reached over and patted my shoulder. "I know what you're going through. I've been around too long not to know. But you can't keep going around doubting everyone. People do love you, Armin, but you have to let us."_

_"... I don't know how."_

_"Try the truth. Even if it's just about how you feel. If you're okay, say it. If you're not, say it. You can't keep on hiding from the world."_

_"I'm scared, though..."_

_"Of?"_

_I took a breath. "There's... there's so much wrong with me... I don't want anyone to leave me. I don't want to be a burden on anyone."_

_"If someone's really your friend, they won't think that way about you. They'll want to help you. If you turn around and resent someone because you're taking care of them, then you don't really love them. They're just there." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, a smile gracing his features. "It's the same with Mikasa and I. We want to take care of you."_

_I paused, thinking about Marco's words. "... I want to take care of you guys too."_

_Marco's smile broadened. "You already do."_

Eren returned with two plates of roughy. "You want any more? I brought you some," Eren said to me.

Rather than answering his question, I murmured, “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Huh?” Eren turned back around to face me.

“I’m afraid to sleep alone. It’s…” I took a breath. “After my mom died, I kind of developed this anxiety thing… she got in this car accident. I was asleep, and she’d went out earlier… she and Dad had had a fight about something, and she took her car to go to a club to sing… she used to be a singer for this punk band, she took me to some of her shows before when Dad wasn’t around. Or she’d lie to him to get me there.” I couldn't help a small smile at the memory. “Anyway, I went to bed before she came home, and the next morning, when I woke up, I saw my dad crying in the living room… a drunk driver hit her car when she was on the way home… and…”

I stopped. Everything about that day came flooding back to me, paralyzing me: the sheer suddenness of the news, the feeling of my world shattering around me, the guilt I felt that night… _it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have gone to bed, I should have waited for her…_

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Firm, gentle, and warm. I closed my eyes and relaxed into Eren’s touch. I few deep breaths later, I felt I could continue.

“After that… I have trouble sleeping, unless someone else is there. Or at least the TV is on Or there’s music… anything. I feel like… like if I go to sleep alone, when I wake up, the people I love are going to disappear. I know rationally, that doesn’t make any sense, but… I can’t help it. I think that if I go to sleep alone again, I’ll wake up alone. And it’ll be my fault, again.”

“It wasn't your fault the first time. You couldn’t have known what would happen. And even if you did, you couldn’t stop it.”

“I can’t stop thinking that way, though. No matter how hard I try.” I couldn't help but think that the people I cared about most are dead because of me. First my mom. And then Marco.

Silence. Then Eren said, “does it matter who’s with you?”

“Not really.” I’ve slept under my father’s bed before, just to not be alone. I woke before he did, so I simply snuck back out in the morning. “Why?”

“Well, I thought, since I’m staying here anyway, maybe I could help you out.”

My eyes widened. I turned slowly to face Eren. “Huh?”

“I could stay in your room with you for the night. How about it?”

“... you’d do that?”

“Yeah… I said I would, didn't I?” He laughed.

I wasn't sure how to feel about this. It was a sudden offer, especially since we’ve only just met… yet I was glad that he’d made it… I’d really rather not sleep alone if I could avoid it.

I wouldn't know what to do if something happened to Mikasa. Or if I had to stay awake the entire night, sinking into myself…

“... thank you,” I choked out.

“Don't worry about it,” Eren said, waving his hand dismissively. “You saved my life; it’s the least I can do.” He picked up one of the plates of roughy, which sat on the coffee table alongside the other one, and held it out to me. "Hungry?"

I smiled and took the plate from him.

A few hours later, I had the cot set up in my room. Eren was in the shower, and I had left a pair of my father’s pajamas for him on the laundry hamper. Dad was a little taller than Eren, but other than that, they were about the same size, so I thought they should fit him. He didn't wear that particular pair very often, so I didn’t think he’d necessarily miss them. 

Eren soon was out of the shower and back in my room. I had been right: the pajamas fit him just fine. The water from the shower had shrunken his hair into tight curls. This he simply brushed back.

“Do you always wear bracelets when you sleep?”

I had noticed it while he was brushing his hair. He was wearing leather cuffs on both of his wrists, studded and tied with black ribbon laces. Eren stared at both wrists, a bit nervously.

“Uh, yeah… it’s to help my wrists. You know, so I don’t get carpal tunnel or whatever. Can't play cello with a bad wrist.” He laughed, but it seemed ingenuine.

“Um, okay. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” I decided not to argue, and just smiled back.

Eren nodded, swung into the cot, and pulled the blankets over himself. “Night,” he said, with a casual salute.

“Goodnight.” With one final smile, I turned off the light.

 

I still couldn't sleep.

My mind was still racing too much to sleep.

This time, though, the reason was different. Instead of the usual wave of negativity swirling through my head, my mind was laser-focused on only one thing.

Eren was lying. That much was clear. When you’ve been doing something long enough, you start to recognize it when others are doing it. And I’ve lied about a lot of things in my life, whether I was trying to fool my father or Mikasa. 

And each time, unless I’d rehearsed it beforehand, I often behaved just like Eren had.

He was hiding something underneath those bracelets. And I intended to find out what.

So obviously, I decided to invade his privacy and sneak the bracelets off, because that wasn't something my father would do or anything.

Well, actually, it wasn’t. My father would have simply demanded the truth from Eren and persisted until he received an answer that was to his satisfaction. What I was about to do was my own personal brand of interloping.

Silently, I crept out of my bed and over to the cot, where Eren had already fallen into a deep sleep, snoring lightly. He lay on his back, one arm draped over his stomach, the other dangling over the edge of the cot. It was to that arm I gravitated. Slowly, carefully, I reached for the lace on the cuff, and began to pull apart the tie, inch by inch.

A moan, and Eren began to stir; immediately I pulled my hand back, scrambling for an excuse for my position-- however, Eren merely mumbled something that sounded like “cheese fries” and turned over.

As glad as I was that Eren had not woken up, he had now relocated his arm to the other side. I crept around the cot, in as silent a manner as possible, reaching for Eren’s arm when I got there. Cautiously I lifted it, reaching for the ribbon again. 

_Don’twakeupdon’twakeupdon’twakeupdon’twakeup…_

Little by little, I continued pulling the ribbon until it came free. Just as gingerly, I pulled apart the cuff, until it was loose enough to fall off Eren’s arm.

When I gently turned his wrist over, part of me wished I hadn’t. 

Something told me this secret was related to the first day I met him, and that I knew what he was doing then, too. I hadn’t wanted to think about it, but I knew.

When I saw the back of his wrist, it confirmed that I was right.

There were a pair of perpendicular scars there, near the center. They formed a capital T on his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, Seinfeldian conversation.
> 
> Trivia: that flashback with Marco was totally a last minute thing. I literally wrote it while on the publishing page. It's nowhere in the actual document. Yet.
> 
> Chapter title is kind of the paraphrased translation of Little By Little's Kanashimi wo Yasashisa ni, which many of you may recognize as the third Naruto opening.


	13. You And I, We Share The Same Disease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, last Thursday was a proud moment in your author's life, because she got to see Icon For Hire live! <3 It was a beautiful day... more beautiful than any other.
> 
> As for this chapter, a little bit of bullying happens. Not a lot, but a little. Just so you know.
> 
> With no further ado, here's your chapter.

I released his wrist, my heart breaking for him.

_Eren…_

I wondered what he must have been going through all this time to drive him to try and kill himself in the past. With the incident at the train station, I imagined he must be hurting even now.

And yet he always seemed so cheerful…

Eren stirred once more. Panicking and lacking a place to hide, I dived under the cot. Desperately trying to slow my breathing and my heart, I listened as Eren rose and yawned.

“... how did this come off?” I heard a ruffling sound, as presumably Eren bent down to pick up the bracelet that I had foolishly left on the floor. “I thought I tied it pretty tight…”

There was a slight creak as Eren rose from the cot. “Armin?” He called. “Is he in the kitchen?” Footfalls, the door creaking open, and then further, fading footsteps.

When I was sure Eren had completely left the room, I returned to my bed as silently and quickly as possible, throwing the covers on. I turned over and pretended to be asleep, listening to Eren come back into the room.

“... Armin? Were you awake?” I didn't answer.

“... I’m either dreaming or hallucinating… there’s no way I’m drunk… whatever.” I heard him return to the cot and pull the blankets over himself.

The scars remained on my mind even as I drifted off to sleep.

 

“You mind if I give you a ride to school?”

The two of us sat at the table in the kitchen eating cereal. Eren had picked it out… he had a curious affinity for Reese’s Puffs. We were both already dressed, myself in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt, Eren in his usual black slim jeans and long-sleeved white shirt. He had also re-straightened his hair during the morning.

“Um… yeah, that’d be fine,” I responded to his offer.

“Awesome. It’d be pretty great to see your school.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” _Provided no one tries to throw a rock at my head or something._ But they probably wouldn’t, in front of Eren.

“Do you normally do anything after school? Like clubs or whatever?”

I shook my head. “There’s not much I’m interested in. So I just come home and work with the band. Or I play piano if we’re not meeting that day.”

“Ah, I know that feeling… the only club I liked in school was orchestra.”

“You played in an orchestra?” Much though I loved rock bands, I also had a fondness for orchestras. This was the only musical interest my father allowed me to cultivate.

“Yeah, it was pretty sweet… everyone was talented, and we played everything. Haha, I still remember that time we did a mashup of Moonlight Sonata and Billie Jean… we had to be the only ones crazy enough to make that work.”

“I’ll bet that was fun.” He nodded, smiling fondly. “Do you miss it?”

“I sure do. I had some great times in that club.”

I took a glance at his wrists. Underneath the sleeves, I could still see one of the bracelets poking out. I thought about the scars I saw last night.

“Eren… what did you do, after you left?”

Eren paused, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. “What makes you ask that?”

“Just curious,” I said quickly.

Eren put the spoon back in his bowl, twirling it around in his fingers. “Well… the first few months, just irresponsible teenage stuff. I had a lot of allowance money saved up, so I blew most of it on concerts, CDs, movies, merch, and some random stupid stuff I can’t remember. By the time I remembered that I needed money to pay rent, I was penniless. I hid from the landlady of the hotel I was living in and squatted there for a little bit while I looked for a job, but she found me and kicked me out. I took a lot of odd jobs that didn’t last very long, and saved up my money, but it didn’t help much… most places I could only scrape together a few months rent with the money I made. I met Ymir and Krista at an Eyes Set To Kill show, and we ended up getting along and hanging out. I told them I played cello, and they told me about a guy they knew who wanted to learn to play. From that point onward, I started giving cello lessons to people to make money.” He told the entire story nonchalantly.

“Were you… lonely? Out there?”

He laughed, a small, sad laugh. “Yeah… a little. It got better after I met Ymir and Krista, but… I still missed Mikasa. I worried about her all the time. But I thought that she was better off without me. That she was happier.”

He stared into his cereal for another few moments, then back up at me.

“Armin, when you met Mikasa… was she okay?”

“... yeah, she was fine. She was sad sometimes, and she never talked much about her past… but for the most part, she was happy.”

Eren smiled fondly into his cereal. “I’m glad to hear that.”

 

Eren showing up at my school had gotten more than a few whispers.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Does he go to this school?”

“No, I think he’s older.”

“Wow, he’s hot!”

“What’s he doing with Arlert? They can’t be friends…”

“No way, he’s too cool for that nerd.”

“Why are all these people staring at me?” Eren appeared to have noticed the attention as well.

“I guess it’s just because they’ve never seen you before,” I said, dismounting his motorcycle.

I was just turning to leave when Eren caught my shoulder lightly. “If you want, I can pick you up after school. It’d be faster than the train.”

“Well, no, you don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t _have_ to. I want to. If you want me to.”

“Well… I…”

“Out of the way, nerd!” Someone shoved me hard in the back. I staggered forward and my stomach caught the bike, knocking the wind out of me.

“Hey! What was that for?!” Eren shouted after the kid. Without waiting for   
an answer-- which he wouldn’t have gotten anyway-- he turned back to me, his hand closed around my arm. “You alright?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” I choked, still trying to catch my breath.

“What was that kid’s problem?!”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

“Nothing? Armin, that kid just shoved you aside like you were trash! He-- wait…” He regarded me with curious concern. “Do you… get bullied here?”

I didn’t see the point in lying; the answer was right in front of Eren’s face. I nodded.

“Did you tell anyone? Your dad, the teacher, somebody?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t do anything. They just keep doing it when the teachers aren’t paying attention.” And I had told my dad about it more than once… while he did go to the school on several occasions and confront the faculty, he always told me afterward that I had brought the negative attention on myself, and that I needed to work harder to get people to like me. So I stopped telling him everything that happened, so that I wouldn’t burden him. I only told him when the signs were obvious and I couldn’t successfully lie about it, which thankfully were rare nowadays.

Eren growled. “Still the same as always… no one ever does anything useful.” He got back on his bike. “Are you going to be okay here? You could--”

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m gonna worry about you, Armin… you’re my friend,” he said, his hands on both my shoulders.

I looked down, not knowing what to say. I wanted to believe that he meant what he said, but… we’ve only known each other for just over a month. It takes years to really get to know someone, and even then you still don't truly know everything.

And yet for some reason, I _wanted_ to trust Eren. I wanted to think that maybe he could be the first person I could trust since I met Mikasa.

I found myself making a lot more split second decisions since I met Eren. The one I decided to make then involved throwing my arms around him, clutching his shoulder blades. For about two seconds he did nothing, then I felt his arms around me, one hand on my back, the other on the back of my head.

“I have no idea what that was for, but thank you,” Eren said after we parted.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I just kind of wanted to. Will you pick me up later?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“Yeah. I do.” I waved a hand. “Bye, Eren.”

“Bye.”

 

Eren made good on his word: when I went out the front door of the school, Eren was there, leaning against his bike, which was parked at the curb. Upon seeing me, he perked up and waved me over.

“No one tried to hurt you, did they?” Eren greeted me when I was close.

“Um...” I was used to such blunt greetings from Mikasa, so it didn’t particularly bother me. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him what did happen. “Yeah, I’m fine.” This was true: physically, I was okay.

“Are you sure?”

I smiled to mask my feelings. “Now who sounds like Mikasa?”

“Hey, she’s not the only one allowed to care about you, you know.” He looked around then. “Actually, where is Mikasa?”

“She takes karate after school. She usually goes straight to my house afterwards.” I had found out the hard way one year that, because I must travel by myself while she is in her classes, that if I’m more than fifteen minutes late coming home, she will return to the school and stalk the place until she finds me. If she can’t, she will call the police and violently interrogate passerby.

“Mind if we go back to your place and wait for her?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Without another word, we mounted Eren’s bike and sped off.

Once inside, I heated up some pizza rolls in the microwave, setting them on the kitchen table. Eren took a seat and grabbed one, taking a bite of it.

“Gotta admit, I love these things,” he said around a mouthful of pizza roll.

“Yeah, me too.” I took a deep breath, and decided to ask the question that had been on the tip of my tongue ever since he had driven me to school.

“Eren… did anyone ever… pick on you?”

Eren’s eyes shot up, green meeting blue. “Something did happen, didn’t it?”

“No! It’s just… I mean…”

“Armin. It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m here for you.”

I gulped. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but… well, this is pretty minor compared to what usually happens to me.

I went back into the living room, opened my bookbag, and pulled out a book: Sword of Chaos by Marion Zimmer Bradley. I returned to the kitchen and slid the book over to Eren.

“Open the front cover,” I whispered.

He did as I said. I already knew what was inside: someone-- or rather, several someones-- had written messages in my book. They told me to go and die, to just hurry up and kill myself like the emo kid I was; they called me a nerd, a freak, and several different homophobic slurs. They were written in Sharpie, so I couldn’t erase them; I could only paint over them with white-out, which I had forgotten to bring with me that day.

“What the…?” Eren had suddenly risen, his hands shaking, his eyes a burning turquoise-green flame. “Who would… what kind of asshole…?! Armin, you have to…! But they…” He slammed his fist against the table and roared, completely lost for words.

I just nodded. Then, after a moment, I spoke again. “I get stuff like that all the time. I’ve been slammed into lockers, had things thrown at me, my things stolen and thrown around… It’s why I like rock music. The bands… they just get me. The lyrics get me. The music, well, it’s something about the aggression… I guess it's the way it gets you moving around. I can forget, while I’m listening to it.” I finally sat down across from Eren. “That’s why I want to be in a band… I want to travel the country, the world, and help people with my music. Just like all those bands did for me.”

Eren had begun to calm down significantly as I was speaking. By the end of my spiel, he had returned to his chair and was staring wistfully at the line between the ceiling and the wall. “I get what you mean.”

“You too?”

“All the damn time,” he laughed bitterly. “You couldn't be a rocker if you were black at my old school… then you got to be the ‘token Oreo.’” He said the last words in a mocking tone. “I was so glad when I left that place. I hated it there.”

“Was that after you… you know, left home? Or was it earlier?”

“Earlier. I had to transfer schools because I kept getting into fights. They had this three-strikes policy, and I’d already been suspended twice, so Uncle Keith pulled me out before I could end up expelled.”

“Is that why you--” I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence. I didn't think that now would be the appropriate time to admit that I’d seen his scars.

“Why I what?” Eren asked suspiciously.

“Why you got so mad when you saw my book,” I lied, surprisingly smoothly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Kind of reminded me of something my classmates did to me.”

“What was that?”

“We had to do this thing in one of my classes one day, some sort of evaluating others project or something. We had to write our names at the top of a piece of paper, pass it around, write what we thought about the person whose paper we got, and then read what everyone else wrote when we got them back. And they pulled out all the stops on that one. They called me everything they could come up with… somebody even called me a skin-bleacher. Maybe three people said anything nice. _Three._ ” He was glaring at the tabletop now, angry tears threatening to spill over.

I couldn't speak. I wanted to say something, but the words refused to come out. For a few moments, I could only watch as he tried to push his tears back.

When I finally forced myself to action, it was to gently clasp Eren’s hand. His eyes snapped up to me, caught off guard by my sudden move.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally.

He smiled and looked back down at our hands, closing his own over mine. “You weren’t there.”

We just sat there in silence for several minutes. Feeling his hand pull away, I looked up: Eren had risen once more, his face set into a determined stare.

“We have to make this work tonight. We obviously want the same thing, so I haven't got the luxury of regret. We’re starting a band tonight.”

 

We stood in front of the door to Mikasa's house a few minutes after she came home. Taking her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the door, and we followed her in.

“Uncle Keith,” she called up. “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“Tell them to hold on, I’ll be down in a minute,” he called back. Mikasa took a seat in a chair by the front door, and I took the chair on the opposite side.

After a few minutes, Keith appeared in the front hall, dressed simply in jeans and a T-shirt. “Alright, Mikasa, where is our visito--” He stopped his sentence short when he saw Eren. For a brief moment, an expression of shock crossed his face, before he set it into something more neutral.

“Eren,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Uncle Keith.” Eren repeated the gesture. Keith stepped closer to Eren until they were inches away from each other.

“I’ve got something to say to you,” Eren began the conversation.

“As do I.” Before Eren could respond, Keith threw his arms around Eren, pulling him into a hug.

“Eren, I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'd like to take the time out once more to thank everyone for all the kudos and everything. The fact that people actually like this and read it keeps me writing. <3
> 
> Title is a line from Make A Move by Icon For Hire.


	14. The Music Is In My Blood

Eren stood stock still in his uncle’s arms, seemingly thrown for a loop. Upon releasing Eren, Keith spoke again. “I know it won’t be easy for you to forgive me. But I truly never meant to drive you away by what I did.”

“Then why did you do it?!” Eren shouted. “You knew what was going on at my school; you knew how much I hated the way they treated me! So why would you turn around and do the same thing?! You're supposed to be my family, but you took their side over mine!”

“I will explain everything. But I need you to calm down before I can say anything.”

“Oh, sure, I’m standing right in front of the person who made me feel the worst, even though you were supposed to be on my side; of course I can remain calm!”

“If it makes you feel better, you may continue to shout at me; I’m not going to say I don't deserve it. But I cannot tell you the truth if you interrupt me in anger.”

Eren stood in silence for a few moments after that. Something about his uncle’s sentence did appear to calm Eren down somewhat; I could see his shoulders beginning to relax. Finally he turned his head slightly away. “Fine.”

He led Eren into the small kitchen. Mikasa rose and joined them, gesturing for me to follow, which, reluctantly, I did. The three of us took seats at the cozy round table, while Keith went to the breakfast bar and pulled a coffee pot out of the brewer.

“Would any of you like any coffee?” We all accepted, and he poured four cups and gave us each one, also laying creamer and sugar on the table.

Keith sat in front of his cup, added a little cream and two cubes of sugar, and stirred the cup slowly. 

Eren was the first to speak. “Alright, we’re here, I’m calm: why?”

“Adults sometimes go through peer pressure as well,” Keith said, not looking up from his cup. “Did you know that?”

Eren stared at Keith suspiciously. Finally Keith looked back up and into Eren's eyes. They were the same striking turquoise green as Eren's.

“When you two first came to my doorstep, I swore I would do everything in my power to take care of you. So when you started getting into all those fights at school, I was at a loss for what to do. I told a friend about it, and he told me he knew of a place where I would find all the answers.

“It turned out to be this radical meeting in Poe Park. The speaker at the gazebo insisted that young black children who identified with modern rock culture were lying to themselves, that they merely wished to assimilate with their white friends and didn't know who they were. I knew they were wrong-- somewhere inside me, I _knew_ they were wrong-- but I wound up ignoring the feeling. I started blaming the music, the bands you listened to… it was their fault you were being picked on, and it was my duty to steer you on the right path.”

“And I suppose you thought I was just going to lay back and accept it? You thought I was just going to go along with that without a word?!”

“Perhaps whatever irrational part of me had taken over me back then hoped you would. I thought that if I led you away from that lifestyle, that you would embrace your heritage, and the students at your school would stop targeting you. Now I realize how wrong I was. I realize now that you already knew who you were. An adjective or your skin color can’t decide that for you. That music made you happy… I should have supported you, instead of invalidating you.” He finally stopped stirring his coffee, which he had steadily been doing more intensely throughout his story. 

“Eren, I truly am sorry for everything. I understand, however, if you find it hard to forgive me.”

Eren stared hard at his uncle for nearly a whole minute, his hands balled into fists. His eyes shot to Mikasa. Then to me. Then wandered down to his hands. Finally he sighed, releasing his fists.

“I suppose… if Mikasa can forgive me for running away… then I forgive you.”

Keith smiled and closed his eyes. “Eren. Thank you.”

Mikasa rose and hugged Eren from behind. Keith then turned to me. “Did Armin wish to speak to me as well?”

I stiffened, in shock at being called out. I snapped my head to Mikasa, who gave me an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

I cast my eyes to Eren. He waved both his hands as me, pushing me to speak. “It’s your turn now. My part’s done.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to Keith once more. “Mr. Yeager… sir… well, I’m here to… part of the reason Eren's here is… well, I ran into him… on the subway… and… he’s in our band now.” Keith knew about our band, because Mikasa is in it, and yet he miraculously never told my father about us.

“Interesting… a cello in a punk band. That seems like a good sound. I like it.”

My mouth twitched at the compliment, and I continued. “Okay, well… my dad’s gone, and… we started playing some shows. And… you know… well, he comes home in a week, and we don’t want to stop playing shows… so… we were wondering if you… if you could… help us,” I finished, my voice trailing off.

Keith sighed, and his eyes drifted lazily to Mikasa. “Very clever, children.” He rose and began to walk off slowly. “Unfortunately, though I disagree with your father’s methods, I cannot lie to another parent about their child. I will not interfere with someone else's parenting like that.”

I lowered my eyes, feeling my entire world crumbling around me. “But…” Mikasa whispered. Eren shouted, “wait a minute--!”

“However,” Keith began. I looked back up at his words; he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his back turned to us. “I trust the word of my niece and nephew. So if, for instance, you had told me, instead, that you were going to study late at the library with Mikasa… or perhaps buy something at the mall… or that you were staying overnight at the apartment, that is the story I would have to give your father, if Mikasa confirms this. Or if you maybe wanted to join me on a road trip with her one day-- purely educational, of course-- to explore the diverse cultures within the United States, this would be something I would be able to tell him. I trust my niece not to lie to me to hide ulterior motives. Hence, even if you had one, I would have no choice but to take her at her word.”

It took me a little while to catch on to the meaning of that statement. Mikasa and I must have reached the conclusion at the same time, because just as the epiphany dawned on me, Mikasa smiled broadly and said, “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“What are you thanking him for, Mikasa, he turned us down!”

“No he didn’t, Eren, don’t you understand? He’s going to help us!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Mikasa.” Though he sounded stern, he flashed us a shrewd, amused smile before leaving the kitchen.

I followed him as Mikasa tried, calmly, to explain the meaning of Keith's words to a frustrated Eren. Keith sat at his living room couch, watching something on television. I stepped up to the couch, and he turned to me.

“Was there something else you needed?”

“Um… well…” There’s an old expression that goes, “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” I tried not to do this when I was younger, but as I got older, I began to check for the price I would have to pay to receive the gift in question. No one ever did anything without expecting something in return, so I always tried to find the terms of the deal before I made it.

“Why… what made you decide to help us?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I’m not complaining or anything,” I said quickly. “I just… I was just curious…”

A small, knowing smirk crossed Keith’s face before he returned to staring at the television.  
“For the same reason I never told your father about your band. It’s clear-- crystal clear-- that he’s making the same mistake with you that I did with Eren. He believes that his own biases are more important than his son’s autonomy. You are loyal to your father, however, and want his approval, right or wrong, so you probably won’t be going anywhere. Eren is loyal to justice and fairness… he’ll cut off anyone he sees as being in the wrong. That was me, and is your father. I’m not normally the type to question others’ parenting decisions, but I can’t help but acknowledge when a mistake is being made… even if I can’t tell them directly. There is no getting through to a bullheaded man like Atticus Arlert. To cut to the chase, I’m making it up to Eren by supporting his dream… and I’m making it up to myself by helping someone who reminds me of my nephew when he was a teenager.”

That was it? He didn’t want anything from me? He just wanted to prove some point to himself?

Not knowing what to say, I murmured, “thank you,” and went outside to sit on the front steps.

My mind was racing with the things Keith had said to me. One comment in particular stuck with me.

_You are loyal to your father… you want his approval…_

He was right, of course. Much though I hated to admit it, I craved my father’s admiration. I wanted him to be proud of me, wanted to know I could do something right and earn his respect.

But no matter what I did, or what I tried, I was never able to earn his respect or affection. My accomplishments always seemed to fall short of his expectations-- it was always “not bad,” and always “could be better."

My every mistake, however, was practically the end of the world. Every tiny deviation was proof that I would become a failure in my future.

The worst part was… I was a rocker. I was supposed to be a rebel, an individualist… I shouldn't have cared what my father thought.

Yet I did care. I cared deeply about impressing him.

Was I really so weak as to crave one man’s acknowledgement so much?

Furthermore, what did that mean for the future of the band? Would I spend the rest of my life hiding away out of fear? Would this band never truly come to life, because of me?

Then there was what he said about me reminding him of Eren as a teenager… was it just because of what I was going through with my father? Or was it… something else?

I shook my head. It couldn’t be. Eren and I were nothing alike: he was passionate, determined, confident, and strong-willed. He was everything I was not.

Again I wondered why he would bother wasting his time with me, band or no band.

And as I did, my chest started to hurt.

It was an all-too familiar pain. The kind I’d get when I would have a bad day and be separated from Mikasa for most of it, and think that she’s not coming back. The kind I’d get when I was sure I was completely alone, certain that no one truly cared for me.

The difference was the location and the intensity. I couldn't be sure why it was so strong this time, but...

“Armin?”

I looked around and up. Mikasa stood over me, her eyes soft. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. “I’m just… thinking.”

Mikasa stepped down three steps and sat next to me. There was a pause, and we sat there in silence.

“Eren was strange when we were younger,” she said finally.

I turned to her at her sudden comment. “Huh? Strange?”

“Yes,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Whenever I was very upset about something, he used to dump water on my head.”

“... and that worked?”

“No. It pissed me off. But according to him, it did work because then I was no longer thinking about whatever was making me upset before.”

“Yeah… but then you're mad at Eren.”

“And I always was. He was fortunate I never caught him.”

I laughed a little at that. “You guys had a nice childhood.”

“We did.” Mikasa fell silent, and I returned to staring off into the distance.

At least, until I felt a shock of liquid splashed on my head.

I jumped and turned around. Mikasa was still staring straight ahead, an empty water bottle in her lap. Somehow I had failed to notice that.

“Mikasa!” I whined. “It’s freezing out here! What was that for?”

“It isn't freezing. It’s only forty-five degrees. Freezing is below thirty-three.”

“I’m not sure that makes a difference.”

“It does. Below thirty-three would have frozen the water right on you. You can’t pour water on someone in that kind of weather.”

While I was glad that she wasn’t willing to douse me with water in lower-thirties and below weather, I didn’t think this was much better.

A small, sly smile spread across Mikasa's face, and she held her hand out to me. “Let’s go back inside. You're going to end up catching cold.”

 

Our set that Saturday night was, in my opinion, the best we had ever played this past month.

In spite of my trepidation, I managed to pull off the lie to my father rather more smoothly than I had thought I would be able to. The entire time, I was paranoid that, in spite of my best efforts, my father would see right through my lie and refuse my request… however, he wound up approving of my cover plan, with a reminder that I was to study while I was there.

To get to the show without the risk of attracting my father’s attention should he be out there, Mikasa and I slipped away through her backdoor, her drums on a hand cart which she wheeled around, and half-ran, half-crept behind all the other houses until we reached a rendezvous point with Eren and Jean, where Eren had already called us a cab.

Our audience was small that night-- about five people were even paying attention to us-- but those who were watching seemed interested, and kept their eyes on us as we played. Our playing was top-notch, as always, and I was even able to speak to the audience without stammering too much. It seemed that playing live was improving my public speaking skills more than all the classes my father had ever encouraged me to take.

Though we could never turn the volume up as high as I wanted, I could still feel the music thrumming in my chest. My guitar and voice, Mikasa’s drums, Eren’s cello, Jean’s bass, all melded together as one, inviting the crowd into our space, our minds, our world.

After our set, I gave a few people our Reverbnation that requested our music. As I was just finishing a conversation with an audience member-- well, more like a listening session, he was doing most of the talking-- I caught a glimpse of Eren from the corner of my eyes. I turned to look as the guy walked off.

Eren was standing a few feet away, chatting with a large group of people. I noticed that quite a few of them were the ones who appeared to have not been watching. Whatever he was talking about, he was lively and animated the entire time. Mikasa stood beside him; though she spoke sparingly, the crowd seemed to have just as much interest in her as they did him. 

_I could never be like that..._

Spotting me, Eren waved me over. I shook my head and backed away, turning down his invitation.

Eren gained a defiant gleam in his eyes. He held up his palm to stop the conversation he was having and stepped closer to me.

I could run now, right? I _should_ run now. I should run as fast as I can out the door and to the nearest train station, thus saving me from potential social embarrassment.

I made my decision too late. Just as I was about to turn and bolt, Eren had finished crossing over and, upon reaching me, grabbed my shoulders, and steered me towards the crowd.

“Eren, I can't--!”

“Armin, you are a professional guitarist now,” Eren scolded, in a mock stern tone. “It's high time you learned how to mingle with the fans.”

 _Do I have to?_ I would really rather not be laughed at when I open my mouth.

Three feet and two futile escape attempts later, I stood in front of a bunch of strangers, trying to convince myself that I could make it through a conversation with them. Hopefully I would only have to answer a few questions rather than try to pull off banter.

“Guys, this is Armin,” Eren introduced me. “He’s the one singing.”

“He’s adorable!” a girl said.

One guy nodded approvingly. He had a black hoodie and long blue-and-black hair. “He looks shorter on stage.” The remark caused me to flush with embarrassment: already standing only five feet four inches, I wondered exactly how much shorter I could look.

“Anybody tell you you’ve got a great set of pipes on you?” the guy continued. "You’ve got a high-pitched voice, but it’s got a lot of power to it.”

I have actually heard all of this from others before, and as always, I was halfway between taking the compliment and denying his claims. I settled for smiling politely, albeit nervously, and murmured, “Thank you…”

“You guys need to make an album. You can't just keep this sound to yourself."

“Oh, we will,” Eren chimed in, draping an arm over my shoulders. “Very soon. As soon as we can manage.”

 _What?!_ How could Eren make that promise? There’s no way we can make an album right now. What if my father found out about it?

“Awesome! I can’t wait to hear it, man.” Blue Hair fist-bumped with Eren and also offered one to me, which I timidly returned.

When the young man left us, I turned to Eren. “Why did you tell him we’re making an album?”

“Because we are?” He said it as if I'd asked the stupidest question in the English language.

“Eren, I _cannot_ make an album right now!” I hissed.

“Why not? We should-- I had a look at your Reverbnation, and you guys haven't made a song in like, six months. You gotta start writing some new stuff, and then we need to get on making an album.”

“What if my dad finds it?!”

“Why would he, Armin? The old man’s not omniscient.” He sounded amused at first, but then he cocked his head, his face now semi-serious. “Wait… that’s exactly what you think, isn't it?”

“N-no! That’s ridiculous!”

Eren smirked, an expression that screamed I’ve-got-you-all-figured-out. “Yeah, that's exactly it… your dad is one of those eyes-in-the-back-of-the head kind of guys, and you’re afraid that if you make an album, your dad will find it somehow and randomly connect it to you.”

Well, said that way, it sounds kind of ridiculous. I tried defending myself. “Someone might tell him…”

“Who? Who at our shows would know your dad? Who would be buying our album that knows your dad?”

I didn't have a good answer to any of those questions. I bowed my head, staring at the floor. “I… I can't. I just can’t.”

There was silence. Eren contemplated me for a few minutes. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up, so that I was now looking in his eyes.

“What is this band to you?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to do with this band?” He released my chin. “I got the vibe that you wanted it to be a career, but it might be just a hobby. And that's fine… you can just play shows every one and so, have fun, then break up and go to college or whatever else you want to do. But if this is what you want to do for a living, then it has to be a lifestyle. You have to dedicate as much time to it as possible. And you have to take risks. You can’t be afraid, and you can't doubt yourself. Otherwise, no matter what you say you want, it’s never going to be anything but a hobby.” His eyes burned as he made his speech, equal parts passion, conviction, and interrogation. “I want to be in a band with people who want music as a lifestyle, not a hobby. So where do we stand?”

Ever since I was a little kid, all I’ve ever wanted to do was make music. At first I just wanted to play piano. But the first time I went to Mikasa’s house and she played a My Chemical Romance CD for me, I knew I wanted to play rock and roll. The more albums I listened to, the more I knew how much I _wanted_ this. This music spoke to me more than anything else. And I wanted to give others the same gift I was given.

I stared into Eren's eyes, meeting his determined gaze with my own.

“It’s a lifestyle.”

With those three words, it became clear: Hope Inside Truth was making an album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No comments today, just enjoy.
> 
> Title is from Rock and Roll Thugs by Icon For Hire.


	15. Spare Me All Your Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before we start today, I want to thank everyone for all the kudos and comments and all, because I was honestly thoroughly convinced that this fic sucked and no one would read it. <3
> 
> That said, let us begin.

If you wanted my vision of the future, imagine a teenage pop-punk singer/songwriter lying face down on his bed suffering from writer’s block. Forever.

It was a week since our last show, and since I had announced that I wanted to make an album. My notebook lay over my head, it’s open, blank pages taunting me even in my prone position, my face buried in the mattress. Why is making an album so much harder than just recording individual songs?

We had already decided on the compilation of the album. Jean suggested using mostly our covers, and then two of our originals at the end. Mikasa suggested the reverse: to use mostly our originals and two covers. Eren suggested just writing all-new material. In the end, after much discussion, we decided on a compromise: two covers, two of our older songs, and the rest would be brand-new tracks. Everyone seemed happy with this arrangement.

I had assumed that I could handle it; after all, many of our songs were written pretty much on the spot. But for some reason, this week I was coming up short. I couldn't seem to write a single thing. I had put some words on paper more than once, but all of it had just sounded like forced garbage. It was starting to seriously get to me. Mikasa was downstairs waiting for me; she had offered to help, but I had told her I was fine, before retreating to my room to be alone and try to come up with something.

I lifted my face up to stare at the notebook, the unmarked, college ruled pages a testament to how much of a failure I was. There had to be _something_ I could write about. Anything.

My phone rang by my left ear. Listlessly I moved it in front of my head and opened the call, putting it on speaker. 

“Hello? Armin?”

“Hey Eren,” I said tiredly. “What are you doing out there?”

“Actually, I wanted to let you know… I can't come to practice today. I’ve got a client today, this rich lady wants me to tutor her kid… she hired me for once a week, so I can probably come tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that's fine.” I was actually very happy for him, but was too lethargic to fully express this. “I’ll see you then. Have a good lesson.”

“Armin, something up?” I forced myself into a kneeling position, cleared my throat, and picked up the phone. The last thing I needed was Eren worrying about me. “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired is all.” I pulled my lips into a smile, even though he couldn't see me through the phone. “Congratulations on the new job. I really hope you have a good time.”

There was a pause, and then Eren said, “okay, if you’re sure. You should really let me or Mikasa know if something’s up, though.”

I nodded slowly, and then remembered that he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yeah, I know.” A thought suddenly flashed in my mind. “You too. Take care of yourself.”

“... yeah. I guess I will.” He sounded crestfallen, but friendly.

I changed the subject. “How much does it pay? The job, I mean.”

“Like, nine hundred a lesson.” He whistled. “This kid must _really_ need help.”

“Could be. I know there are some terrible instrument players out there.” I thought of one boy at my school… everything he played sounded like he was trying to invent a new siren to summon the National Guard to hunt down a terrorist.

“Oh boy, are there ever. Hopefully however bad this kid is, he’ll have the decency to not make my ears bleed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well,” I said, “I hate to leave you alone to face potential danger, but I’m trying to write some lyrics. You know, for our album.”

“Oh no, yeah, that’s fine. Beautiful, actually. Okay, so I’ll let you go… can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

_Me either._ “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright. Bye.”

After we hung up, my mind suddenly fixated on Eren. Specifically, the night that he slept over with me. Since that day, I hadn’t been able to get his scars off my mind. Our short exchange only brought them back to the forefront of my thoughts. 

I wondered just what Eren had been through before now. He had told me some things-- the bullying, running away-- but somehow, it didn’t seem like he had let either of those things really get to him. From what I could tell, Eren was fiercely independent, and didn’t really care what others thought of him. Something else must have happened to have broken him enough to want to hurt himself. Something big. Something he didn’t want to tell anybody else, preferring to mask his feelings behind his smile.

Suddenly, I had an overwhelming desire to get into Eren’s mind. Find out more about him. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Eren Yeager.

My eyes wandered to the empty notebook in front of me. I grabbed it, as well as a pen, and pulled the cap off the pen with my teeth.

I had finally realized what I wanted to write about.

 

My curiosity had gotten the better of me by the time Eren made it to practice the next day. He was at Mikasa’s house before anyone else, aside from me; I was passing the time on Keith's keyboard, trying to come up with a tune for my new lyrics.

“Need help with that?” I slammed my hands on the keyboard in shock, producing a loud, dissonant chord. Eren grabbed a chair and sat beside me, laughing the entire time. “Sorry I scared you. I just thought I'd work with you until the others get here.”

“Um… yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” 

He unzipped his case and lifted the cello from it. “I’ll play with whatever you're playing, and if I have any pointers to give, I’ll stop you.”

“Okay.” With that, the two of us began to play. I began the melody on the keyboard, and Eren joined in with his cello. True to his word, Eren offered plenty of advice (“there should be a key change up here… play this a little slower, it’ll sound more intense when the whole band plays it… oh, there should be a guitar solo here”), and to his advice I would scribble notes into the sheet music.

Somewhere around our fourth play through, I chanced a glance at Eren. My playing trailed off once I did so.

I was mesmerized by his playing. He swayed as if he had completely forgotten the world around him, fingers expertly caressing the strings, his other hand smooth and graceful as he drew the bow back and forth. It was a dance between himself and the cello, and it was as if he and the instrument were the only two things in the world that existed. He kept his eyes softly closed as he played, as if to further drown out the noise of his surroundings by refusing visual input. He hadn't even seemed to realize that the keyboard had stopped producing sound for several moments. When he did, however, he paused and looked up.

“You stopped playing.”

“Uh… oh. Yeah.” I tried to hide my blush as I turned back to the keyboard. I failed. “Sorry.”

“You were staring at me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

A shock coursed through my body, straight into my stomach, and immediately hatched dozens of snakes. My heart also began pounding faster. “Er… well… it’s just… I was watching you play. It was… great. It was so…” My voice trailed off.

“You liked it?”

I nodded, daring to turn my eyes back to him. “Yes. You were-- I mean, it was beautiful.”

He smiled again, softer and more genuine this time. “Thank you.” It was so sincere, that I felt a pang of guilt about what I was considering asking him.

And yet I had to. He was my friend, and I wanted him to know that I was there for him. The only way I could do that was if he told me what happened.

As Eren was readjusting himself to play once more, I spoke. “Eren.”

“Hmm?”

“Why…” I paused and cleared my throat. “Why did you… try to kill yourself?”

Eren froze. “... What makes you think I tried to kill myself?”

I gathered together my wits. I’ve already started, may as well keep going. “Well… when we first met… and you almost fell in the tracks…”

“... oh.” He sounded relieved, but dismissed me with a wave. “Pfft… I already told you what that was about.”

I shook my head. “It wasn't. I know.”

Eren’s brow began to furrow, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

I shook my head quickly. “It’s just… I don't think you're telling me everything.”

“Well I did,” Eren shot back, agitated. “So just drop it.”

I should have just dropped it. Everything in me was screaming at me to drop it. He’ll tell you on his own time, you don’t need to pry.

Guess what I didn't listen to.

“It’s okay, Eren, you can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone.” And then, as if this would somehow help, “I saw them.”

“What are you talking about, Armin?” His voice sounded hard now.

“... on your wrists. I saw the scars.”

“How could you have--?!” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That night I slept over… you took off my bracelet, didn’t you?”

I nodded my head. “I’m sorry. I don't mean to hurt you or anything. I… I want you to be safe, so I just…”

“Shut up.” The words were cold as ice, freezing me in place.

Eren rose, and grabbed his case, packing his cello away. I gathered myself together and spoke. “Eren? Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Out.” He started to walk away.

“Well… um…” I swallowed. “Be… be back in time for practice--”

“I’m not staying for practice,” he snapped. “I quit.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. I’m leaving before you decide I’m your charity case.”

“What? Eren, no, that’s not it at all--!” I tried to stop him by grabbing his arm. He snatched away from me and kept going.

“Eren, wait! I didn't mean it like that--!”

He rounded on me, green eyes burning with anger. “Fine, let me guess what you did mean. You decided that you were gonna pry into my business and remove my bracelet in my sleep, then you saw what was under there and said to yourself, ‘oh, poor sad emo kid, let me hang with him so I can feel better about myself. Who cares what he thinks of me walking out on him when I'm through with him?’”

“No! I don't want any of that!”

“Don't lie to me!”

“I’m not--!”

“Then what do you want with me?! Why are you hanging out with me?!”

“Because I care about you!”

“You don't even know me.”

“I want to! Since the day I met you I wanted to know more about you! I want to be your friend and make music with you! I don't want to lose you like I lost Marco!”

I only realized that I spoke too much when Eren asked, blindsided, “who's Marco?”

I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a strained choking noise as I stopped myself. I cleared my throat and tried again. “He… he’s…”

Eren tilted his head sideways. I took a deep breath, let it out, and started again.

“Tomorrow. Stay for practice today, and I promise I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. But… there’s someplace we have to go before I do. Just give me the chance… I’ll explain everything.” It had been a while since I had visited Marco anyway… I normally visited once a week, but I had been rather occupied lately. I felt badly about that.

Eren considered me for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. Finally he sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow then. But you’d better be telling the truth.” I just nodded in response.

 

Neither of us was concentrating much on practice that day.

Eren played well, but missed several notes, and seemed not so much lost in the music as lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t even have the attention span to respond to Jean’s prodding on the matter. I was the same way; I plucked distractedly at my guitar for the entire session, with no thought as to what I was playing. Mikasa kept asking us both if we were okay, but both of us denied any unusual mental activity.

I wasn’t entirely sure what it was Eren was thinking about, but judging from the way he kept glancing at me the entire time, I imagined that he was thinking about what I had said to him earlier.

My mind was on the very same thing, albeit in a different context.

Tomorrow would be the first time I had taken anybody other than Mikasa with me to visit Marco’s grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now I've dropped a little of what happened to Marco... next chapter, we'll learn why.
> 
> Eren seems a little hostile here, doesn't he? Don't worry, there's a reason for that too.
> 
> Finally: remember that phone conversation between Armin and Eren. Keep it in your mind.
> 
> Title is from Sympathy by Too Close To Touch.


	16. In A Perfect World, This Could Never Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. Armin tells Marco's story in this chapter.
> 
> I think I'm happy enough with this one to let it be seen in public. You guys let me know what you think too.

Eren picked me up after school the next day, as he usually did. This time, however, instead of going straight to Jean’s house, where we were practicing today, I directed him to go to Woodlawn station.

“What’s in Woodlawn?” he asked me.

“Marco,” I said simply.

“He lives here?”

“Sort of.”

When we got to the station, I had him stop at a nearby flower shop to pick up a bouquet. I chose yellow roses, purple hyacinths, and white chrysanthemums.

“That actually looks kind of nice,” Eren commented. “What's the occasion?”

I shook my head. “I get him a bouquet all the time. You’ll see.”

Eren stared at me curiously, but didn't ask anymore questions. We got back on the bike, and I directed his driving to our next destination.

“... the cemetery?”

“Yes.”

His eyes widened slightly. “So, Marco’s…”

“He is.”

“So… why are we here?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

He narrowed his eyes. “If this is some kind of trick…”

“It’s not. I promise.”

Eren seemed suspicious of my short answers, but nevertheless got off the motorcycle with me and followed me into the cemetery. 

I led him to a small plaque in the ground, where I knelt down and laid the flowers.

_Marco Bodt  
June 16, 1996 - April 15, 2012  
“No matter how hard it gets, we can't lose heart.”_

In addition, Mikasa and I had written on the plaque. Marco had wanted his grave marker to be colorful when he died, and so we had honored his last wish by decorating the plaque with everything from spray paint to permanent markers, mostly messages of how we’d missed him.

“Hey, Marco,” I said to the plaque. “Sorry I haven't been here in a while. A lot’s happened since the last time.” I gestured to Eren. “We got a new member for the band… remember how we kept saying we needed a string instrument other than the guitar? Well, Eren here plays cello. Isn’t that cool?” I moved over and waved Eren forward. “Say hi, Eren."

Eren looked apprehensive, but stepped forward anyway and knelt next to me.

“Um. Hi… Marco. Yeah, I’m Eren.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… well, I don’t really talk to dead people much, so… well, my mom and dad sometimes. But, I don't know you much, so…” He averted his eyes. “Armin, this is awkward.”

“It’s okay.” I took his place and laid a hand on the plaque. “Listen, Marco, I have to tell Eren what happened. I hope that's okay. If it's not, please don't haunt me later. It was for a good cause.” I turned to him and met his eyes.

“Armin, what happened to him?”

“I’d better start at the beginning.” I took a deep breath, let it out, and began.

“Marco was our bassist before Jean. He was the nicest guy you ever wanted to meet, optimistic, friendly to everyone… the kind of guy that would have given you the shirt off his back. Anyway, he was friends with Jean too…”

“Jean? As in Jean Kirshtein? Your asshole bassist?”

I chuckled and nodded. “Yes. He didn’t talk to me much, but he was pretty close with Marco… at least, Jean was all he ever talked about. Well… one day, they stopped speaking to each other. And then… it was like he became a different person after that. He became depressed, snappish, he started locking himself away… we tried to talk to him, Mikasa and I, but he…” I could feel the tears beginning to escape. I pushed them back and tried to finish the story.

“One night… I got a call from him. He was crying, saying he felt lost, alone, that he couldn't go on anymore… I tried to talk him down, but he… he wouldn't…” I swallowed, trying hard to hold back my tears as I remembered that day…

_“Armin… I can't do this anymore…”_

_“Listen, calm down, okay? I'm right here, just stay with me.”_

_“It's over… Jean hates me now… I-I can’t take this…”_

_“Marco, please, just breathe… it’ll be okay, I'll come over there if you want--”_

_“No. It’s too hard… I can't… I’m so sorry, Armin…”_

_“Marco, wait, just talk to me, maybe I can… Marco? Marco?!”_

A hand at the top of my head brought me back to the present. I closed my eyes, strangely comforted by Eren's touch.

“What happened then?” he asked softly.

“He stopped talking. The line just went dead. I got worried, and Mikasa and I went to look for him. Mikasa was the first one to call. She'd found his cell phone on the sidewalk of a bridge.” I held myself, squeezing my upper arms in an attempt to keep my composure. “The police found his body a week later. He’d had a bunch of stones in his pockets.” I could remember how helpless I felt when I found out what happened. I had been on the phone with him, and yet I couldn't even do anything about it.

“I’m sorry that happened.”

I shook my head. “It was my fault.” It came out as barely more than a whisper.

There was a pause before Eren spoke again. “Do you blame yourself for _everything?”_

It came out, not facetious, but sympathetic. I looked to him, not knowing what to say in response. “It was,” I ended up with. “I… I should have asked more questions. Should have found out more…” A sniffle. “I was a… terrible friend. I took his cheerfulness for granted, thought he'd be fine, but I knew he wasn't. I couldn't even… help him… I…” I could feel moisture on my cheeks, and didn't bother trying to hold back anymore. I couldn't.

“This wasn’t your fault, Armin.” 

My eyes darted back to him. He had his eyes fixed on the plaque, that pensive stare again. “Your friend… he was just tired. I’m sure of it. He was tired of whatever was going on with him. He didn’t know how else to deal with it.” His tone was experiential, even a little melancholy.

“There’s no real guarantee that he wouldn’t have jumped in that water anyway, no matter what you said. If he was feeling that desperate, there was nothing you could do to save him. Unless you would have went to where he was and dragged him back yourself. And even then, there’s no saying you would have made it in time. I mean, maybe you could have talked him down. Maybe you couldn’t. There’s no way to know for sure, and beating yourself up for at least trying isn’t going to bring him back. It sure isn’t going to help you heal from it.”

I looked at the ground. “I don’t deserve to heal.”

Another long silence. So long I thought Eren might not want to speak anymore.

“What did Marco want for this band?” He asked finally.

Huh? “The same as me, I guess… He wanted us to spread our message, and be more well known.”

“Do you think you’re honoring his memory?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, instead of blaming yourself for what happened, use his memory to fuel your passion. Make this band work, and make both of your dreams come true. Crying about it isn’t going to make that happen.”

“But… I am…”

He gave me a pointed look. “How hard?”

I fell silent at that. Something about the question stopped me completely in my tracks. It was just two words, and yet I found that I was now questioning everything about myself.

How hard was I working? I had always thought I was trying my best… but was I?

Perhaps everything I ever thought was an obstacle was just an excuse.

_My father doesn’t approve._

_I’m a terrible guitar player._

_Nobody wants to see some kid on the stage._

_Rich blondes don’t belong in the scene._

_I’ll be found out._

I ran through each and every one of my anxieties about the band that had ever frozen me in place. To every one, I wound up with the same response.

_That's not the right answer. Not to Eren._

And when I thought about it, not to me either. 

I laid a hand on Marco’s plaque, tracing the raised letters with my fingers. Eren was right. I had to remember Marco the right way. This wasn't how he would have wanted to be remembered. 

I balled my hand into a fist and wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

“Eren.”

“Hmn?"

“I told you all that because…” What was the best way to say what I wanted to? “...please... don’t die. And don't leave.”

He was silent for a long time. After a long minute, he finally responded. “I’ll do my best not to.”

The two of us ended up just kneeling by Marco's plaque in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Perfect World by Simple Plan.


	17. Something Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that? A new chapter already. I'm on a roll.
> 
> So I've been figuring out a bunch of stuff I want to do with this story, and much of it will be coming up shortly. 
> 
> That said, enjoy!

It took us a few more minutes before we finally left the plaque. We fell into step together as we made our way back to Eren's bike, our hands in our pockets. Eren remained silent the entire way back. I found this unusual: Eren nearly always had _something_ to say. I chanced a glance at him: his eyes were cast to the ground in thought. Not that look I had come to see as dangerous, but merely like he was trying to piece something together in his mind.

Eren finally spoke when we arrived back at the space where he parked his bike.

“Why did Jean and Marco stop speaking?”

The question elicited a sigh from me. “I don’t know all the details… all Marco would tell me was that he and Jean had some sort of falling out. He pushed me away whenever I tried to press further.”

“Did you ever ask Jean about it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to open up any old wounds. It would just cause friction in the band."

“Seems to me like there’s already friction.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know, something just seems off about him. None of you really act like he’s part of this band. Including him.”

I didn’t remark on Eren’s further comment, instead mounting the bike along with him, and we sped off when he kicked the engine to life.

 

“The hell have you been, Armin?” Jean greeted me when he answered my knock. “Mikasa was about to call the police.”

“None of your business is where we were,” Eren snapped.

“Excuse you, I was talking to Armin.”

“Yes, you were asking him nosy questions about the time we were spending together.”

“I’m not allowed to worry about my friend just because you, a stranger none of us know anything about, were hanging out with him?”

“First of all, Mikasa knows me. Second, I seriously doubt you care about anybody but yourself.”

That touched a nerve with Jean. He quickly closed the distance between him and Eren, getting in his face threateningly.

“I dare you to say that one more time!”

Before Eren could respond, I wedged myself between the two of them and managed to push them apart.

“Can we just play? Please.”

The two of them looked at me, looked at each other, and begrudgingly nodded, creating a temporary truce.

Mikasa, who had come into the living room when Jean shouted, caught my eyes and gave me a nod of acknowledgement. I returned the gesture, and we took our place behind our instruments.

During our break, I decided to go into the kitchen to get snacks for everyone, since Jean’s parents didn't particularly mind us raiding their pantry.

Someone came in as I was pouring potato chips into a bowl. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Eren, but instead caught Jean’s eyes. 

“Oh, hey,” I greeted him before turning back to the chips.

“Hey.” He stepped over to stand next to me. “So where were you all that time? I’d rather hear your answer than his hotheaded assery.”

I answered him with another question. “Why are you so mad at Eren?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. Clearing his throat, he continued. “It’t just… First of all, he's annoying as hell. Then he's an idiot. And there’s just something off about him… I mean, what kind of guy abandons his sister for years on end and then shows up out of nowhere and pretends nothing happened?”

“He had his reasons for that, didn't he?”

“He still could have at least called her, instead of making her worry about him for four years.” His eyes burned as he spoke, like he was on edge just thinking about it. 

“I don’t think it matters to either of them anymore. They’ve already moved past it.”

“But how…? Eh, nevermind. Where were you out there?” he repeated.

I deliberated for a few moments whether or not I wanted to tell him. Finally I let out a sigh, my eyes now on the bowl. “I went to see Marco.”

“Oh.” He fell silent for a few moments. “Armin, um…” 

I turned to face him. He was staring at the floor, scratching the back of his head. “Um… when Marco… you know… did he say anything? About me?”

I tilted my head curiously. “No… just that you two had a falling out. What happened?”

“One of us was selfish and stupid. You can probably guess which one.”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t appear to want to talk about it. I grabbed the bowl of chips and headed back to the living room. I overheard the tail end of something Jean muttered as I left. It sounded a little like he’d begun sobbing.

“... never even apologized…”

 

I spent the better part of the next week still working on ideas. Many of my nights were sleepless, but not in a bad way: I would sneak downstairs into the basement to work out melodies on the old piano my father kept there. It used to be displayed proudly in the den, but when it became too worn and faded for public display, Dad had bought a newer, brighter one and had this one hidden away in the basement. I still visited it often when I didn’t want my father to hear me play and question me.

My nights were filled with the sounds my fingers produced on the black-and-white keys, my afternoons letting my bandmates hear those tunes and giving their opinions on them. It had become a routine during these sessions for Mikasa to separate Eren and Jean at some point during the day, for neither of them seemed to be able to disagree in a particularly civil manner. The tiniest disagreements frequently led to volleying insults and eventually the beginnings of fistfights, which usually prompted Mikasa to grab Jean by the back of his shirt and toss him bodily out of the door of whatever room we were in. This usually calmed both of them down, as Eren would laugh his head off and Jean would slink back into the room, embarrassed, and pick up his bass again.

After about three weeks of this, we finally produced a ten-song CD. Part of me wished that there were more tracks, and part of me was just glad that I had finally released something for the band. 

“Alright, now we just have to get this circulated,” Eren said, holding the disc I had burned in his hands and regarding it like it was the gospel itself. 

“We’re putting it on Reverbnation, right? I mean, that's a start,” I said.

“It is,” Eren replied, “but we need more than that, too, if we’re going to get any meaningful exposure.” He tapped his finger to his lips in thought. “I think I know of a college radio station around here that’ll play us.”

“Eren,” I pleaded, “if my dad hears my voice on the radio…”

“What, is your dad a radio exec?” Eren asked. 

“No, but--”

“Then there's no reason for him to be listening to college stations,” Eren reasoned. 

He was kind of right, but… “What if he stumbles on it?”

“From what you've told me about your dad, he’ll probably just switch to another station to avoid all that ‘noise.’ Seriously, you have nothing to worry about.”

“But…”

“Armin,” he said, his hands on my shoulders, “now’s not the time to be afraid. We’re getting ready to start a band now: you have to be brave and take risks.”

I turned to Mikasa. She smiled and nodded.  
“It's time now. We’ve been hiding long enough. Now that we have more help, we should take advantage of it.” I looked back up at Eren, seeing eyes full of strength and persistence. It made my own heart swell with courage to look at him. 

“Yeah. Let's do this.”

“Alright, I’ll find us a station and march this CD over,” Eren announced, before turning on his heel and leaving.

A smile crossed my face as I watched him leave. 

_I think he can actually help us._

“I like that about him too.”

I snapped my head around. Mikasa had appeared beside me, a tiny smile on her own face.

“Like what?”

“His persistence. He’s always been good at that. And breaking down other people’s barriers. He does it without even trying.”

“How come you never told me about him before?” I was curious. She seemed to really love him, so I was surprised that she had never talked about him before now.

“It was too painful at the time.” Her face fell, and she stared off into the distance. “When I first met you, he had just run away. Just thinking about him hurt too much to bear. When you and I became friends, I didn’t think it was necessary to bring up the past. Especially not when I couldn’t do anything about it. I thought it more important to enjoy your company in the present.”

Wait… “You… liked hanging out with me?”

“I still do. I would have stopped otherwise.”

It was a blunt, honest statement, and it caught me off guard just a little bit. And still, I had to know… I finally asked out loud the question that had been bothering me ever since we became friends. 

“Why? Why, of all people, would you want to be around me?”

A knowing smirk played across her face. “Other than the fact that we have fun together and I love you?” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Well, when I first met you, you reminded me of Eren. Except…”

“Except what?”

“Except you know your own worth even less than he knows his.”

This seemed a strange statement to me. Eren seemed completely convinced of his worth to me. He was always so confident in himself and everything he did. He was nothing like me. 

And yet…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheheheheheh, it turns out it's taking longer for the full story of Jean and Marco to come out than I thought. But I promise I'm getting there!
> 
> No song title today. I couldn't think of a good one. If you guys have any suggestions, drop em in my comment box, and I'm still open to comment/critiques/whatever. (I promise I won't cry if you think it sucks. XD)


	18. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back!
> 
> I'm finally ready to post this chapter! I think. XD Hope you like it!
> 
> Quickie note before I start: if you comment, and I don't answer, either a) I didn't know what to say back, or b) I was too shy to answer. Sometimes both. But I do read the comments, and thank you for making them. <3
> 
> Also, I added a few tags for current and future themes.
> 
> I'm done, your chapter awaits.

Five days after Eren submitted our demo to the radio stations, he burst excitedly into Mikasa’s living room. 

“I got us a gig!”

“Sasha's again?” Jean asked shrewdly. 

“Of course not,” Eren snapped. “It’s at the Tavern.”

I widened my eyes. “ _The_ Tavern?”

“That’s right.”

“You got us booked at the Tavern?” Mikasa said, eyes wide.

Eren nodded. “We open for Coarse Stitches.”

“You’re joking!” I exclaimed. 

Eren shook his head, smiling slyly. “It’s all set.”

Mikasa was starstruck now. “Opening for Coarse Stitches at the Tavern… I can't believe it…”

“What tavern?” Jean asked, confused. “And what's Coarse Stitches?”

Eren just scoffed. “Of course somebody like you wouldn't know about the Tavern.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Jean growled. 

“Exactly what I said, horse face.”

Before Jean could shout another retort at Eren, I decided to diffuse the argument by explaining.

The Anarchist Tavern was a small but popular all-ages rock club nestled in Greenwich Village. The club was home to some of the biggest local bands in the city, including Coarse Stitches, an up-and-coming punk-rap group on the rise. It was also where quite a few major acts got signed. 

_And Eren got us a gig there…_ I had to work to keep the stars out of my eyes as I explained to Jean. 

“If this place is so popular, how come I haven't heard of it?”

“You didn't hang out around enough rockers,” Mikasa said. “If you had, you’d _know_ the Tavern.”

“The closest he’s probably ever even gotten to punk is Daft,” Eren muttered. Jean heard him.

“I’m not that ignorant, I happen to know more about music than that.”

“Let me guess, you're about to tell me you listen to Simple Plan and Avril Lavigne and expect that to fly with me.”

“N-No, I wasn't!” Jean stuttered angrily. “I happen to like Linkin Park.”

Eren just smirked at him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I spoke before he could. “When is the show?”

“Next Saturday at eight.”

A weekend?! _Calm down, Armin_ , I told myself. _You have plenty of time to come up with an excuse. You're going to be fine._

“That's not a bad time, is it?” Eren asked me. 

“Of course it is, Armin doesn't have anywhere to lie to his father about on weekends,” Jean retorted. 

“No, it's fine,” I countered. “I will by next Saturday. I’m sure of it.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don't know yet. But I’ll find something.”

 

With a little indirect help from Mikasa, I found my excuse by Thursday.

She had suggested after school that day to study with her in the library. I had been complaining that my grades may have been slipping, and so she offered to help me with my assignments before we went to practice that day. On the way to the school library, my epiphany hit, and I kissed Mikasa on the cheek.

“Mikasa, you’re a genius!” She had raised an eyebrow to me, but didn't ask for clarification. 

And so I told my father that I had decided to study with Mikasa on Saturdays in order to bring my grades up.

“I’m proud of your decision,” he had said. “You’re going to need to improve greatly if you wish to get into Harvard.”

I’d just nodded in response. The truth was, I really didn’t want to go to Harvard. I wanted to go to Oneonta. But my father insisted that I would go to Harvard and become a lawyer if I knew what was best for me. So, Harvard it was.

“However,” he began. I tensed slightly, afraid I would have to cancel our show. “You must come with me in two weeks from now. Our office is hosting their annual event for employees and their families. Everyone is looking forward to seeing you again.”

 _Not that again…_ I hated going to those events. They were awful to me; I hardly knew anyone there, and those that I did know, I very much disliked. “Dad… can I not go this year?”

“Absolutely not. This event is very important for your future. It is imperative that you be there.”

“But Dad…”

He lunged for me suddenly; I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me; instead, he clapped his hands on my shoulders.

“Armin.” He stared directly into my eyes. “I take you to these events so that you can network with others. I want nothing but the best for you, and the people you meet here will be beneficial to you for the rest of your life. Mikasa is already good for you, I know, but you will need more than her to get into Harvard.” He gave me a small smile. “Nothing would please me more than to see you on your way to secure the best future. I don't want to be disappointed in you.”

I averted my eyes to the table. It was with those words that I remembered why I go to those parties every year, even though I never want to: I was already a huge disappointment to my father. When I attended those events, it gave me hope that maybe I could finally do something that would make him proud.

And besides, at least I didn't have to cancel the show. 

I nodded slowly. “Yes, Dad.”

He sighed and released me. "I wasn't nearly this difficult when I was your age, Armin. Had I spoken to my father that way, he would have slapped me straight into next week. You're very lucky, Armin."

I just stayed silent at those words.

 

The day of our show, while I was backstage preparing to play, I wasn’t thinking about the party. I wasn’t thinking about Harvard. I wasn’t even thinking about my grades. I was thinking about the sea of faces I was about to be looking into, all the things that could go wrong, all the things they might say to me out there…

Because the truth was, this was incredibly different from playing at the diner. I was going to be faced with the most discriminating of fans, looking us up and down, judging us… what if they hated us?

Worse, what if they liked us? What if someone took a picture with me and uploaded it to the internet and my father stumbled upon it somehow and read whatever comment was under it and found out I’m in a rock band and…

I struggled to control my breathing, not wishing to hyperventilate. The image that sometimes invaded my mind when Mikasa took me to concerts returned once again.

_I am disappointed in you, Armin. You deliberately disobeyed me, and you dragged Mikasa down with you. If you wish to be a violent thug, then you are no longer my son. I did not raise you to waste your life like this._

If that happened… where would I go? Worse, what would happen to the band? We’d have to break up… Mikasa would hate me… she would never want to see me again… she would walk out on me… 

“Hey, Armin.”

I jumped and turned to the source of the voice. Eren stood before me, clutching a small container of black paste, a spray bottle, and a pair of sunglasses. “Still nervous?”

I nodded. Earlier my nerves had gotten to me so badly that I had thrown up in the bathroom. Eren had been with me, and held onto my hair as I vomited.

“I think I’ve got an idea that might help.” He strode over until he was in front of me. “I get the feeling you’re still a little worried about being discovered. So, what you need is a disguise.”

“Is that what the sunglasses are for?”

“And this.” He held up the black paste. “It’s sidewalk chalk. Once the show’s over, just wash it out of your hair. I had Mikasa bring some shampoo with her.”

“Won’t that… stain my hair?”

“A little. But not for long if you shampoo it enough. Three should have it out tonight.” He picked up the spray bottle and spraying each section. When he repeated the sectioning process, it was to spread the black paste through my hair, section by section. I found myself fighting a blush as he did this: physical contact was never the most comfortable thing in the world for me, but for some reason physical contact with Eren made those snakes twist in my stomach once more. And also created a strange sensation under my skin, like my blood was being warmed on a stove and poured back in my veins.

When he was finished, he smiled and nodded at his handiwork, and held up a mirror so that I could admire it as well. With my blond locks now dyed jet black, I had to admit I did look slightly different.

“Actually, let’s add one more thing…” He dipped a toothbrush into the paste this time and dabbed at my chin and above my lip with it. “Now it’s perfect.”

He showed me the mirror again. Now I had fake stubble on my face. I had to admit, I did look a lot different… and more like a guy. My looks were a huge contention of mine, mainly because kids at school kept bringing it up, and it was apparently a problem with them.

Still, would this be enough to fool my father?

“Is this… really going to work?”

“Probably not on it’s own, but definitely with the sunglasses. It’s unlikely anyone will take pictures when we're onstage, but if they do, you'll be moving around too much to them to get a clear picture.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He grinned, a broad, confident grin. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Mikasa poked her head in through the stage door. “We’ve got ten minutes. You two should do your soundcheck.”

We both nodded our affirmation. Eren sauntered out first, and I followed, still feeling a little like some burglar had absconded with my insides.

I did my level best to pretend that the audience wasn't there as I cued the sound tech to adjust the volume. The irony was not lost on me: here I was wishing I could just disappear, and yet trying to get my guitar to sound as loud as possible in order to draw attention to us. 

Two minutes before we were to start, Mikasa pulled me aside and into a hug.

“Good luck, Armin. I’ll be here for you.”

I smiled wryly. “You have to be, you're my drummer.”

She cast me a shrewd smirk before swatting me playfully across the face and returning to her drum set. 

An arm wrapped itself around my shoulders: turning to see the owner, a pair of enthusiastic green eyes met my own. 

“Ready to kick some ass?” he asked me. 

His closeness was oddly comforting in this moment. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Perfect. Time to go out there and make some noise.” He, too, wrapped his arms around me in a hug. I hugged him back, feeling a strange desire to not let go of him.

I didn’t get my wish. “Good luck out there,” he said, taking his place behind his cello.

I took a slow, deep breath before heading to the mic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discaimer: I have no problem with either Simple Plan or Avril Lavigne. I rather like both. Eren, however, has a thing against pop-punk bands that are more pop than punk.
> 
> Title is a song by Linkin Park.


	19. Are You Lost Like Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. Really hard. Needlessly hard. I had the beginning down, but the end was the real killer.
> 
> I've decided to let myself think that you guys missed me and this story while I was gone. (If not, it's totally your fault I think that. :-P)
> 
> That said, I'm gonna shut up and let you guys read.

They're staring at me.

All of them. 

Eyes everywhere. Eyes fixed on us. On me. Judging me.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hundred people in front of me… but it felt like I was staring into a crowd of thousands.

I was frozen in place. I had been to the Tavern before, but never from the front stage. Though I had mostly succeeded at impressing the crowd at Sasha’s restaurant, this was a completely different environment. These were people who knew exactly what they wanted, and would not hesitate to bury a band that couldn't deliver. 

The audience stared at me, a mixture of curiosity and frustration, wondering when I would begin. I cleared my throat and tried. 

“Um… I, I mean, we… uhm…” I couldn't get the words out. My heart pounded in my chest. _Oh god, please don't hyperventilate, not right now…_

A hand threaded its fingers through my own. A warm, gentle, calloused hand. One that I’d felt once before. For a few moments my eyes closed, focused on the feel of that hand in mine, that equally familiar warmth that spread through my entire body, originating from the area of my palm.

I looked over my shoulder, and found myself greeted by an encouraging smile from Eren. 

“Knock ‘em dead,” he murmured. “This is our moment.”

I turned behind me to face Mikasa. She gave a silent nod, smiling softly.

My face set into a determined frown, and I nodded sharply and turned back to the mic, peeling my hand away from Eren’s.

_That's right… tonight is our night. This is the band’s moment to shine. I can't afford to let them down._

I took a deep breath and, still not quite able to say the words I needed to introduce us, I did the only thing I thought I could to break the ice.

I screamed into the microphone.

_“Bury me deep into the ground, ‘cause I’d rather die than take this lying down!”_

It was the first line of the first verse of this song. The rest of the band knew what to do and, right on cue, launched straight into the raw, aggressive tune which accompanied the lyrics. I yanked my guitar strings with fervor, Mikasa smashed her drums, Eren ground into his cello, and Jean threw himself into the bass. 

With the music free to reverberate throughout the building, I wrapped myself into the sounds, the drumbeats replacing my own heartbeat as the floor underneath me throbbed. The notes and the words I spoke swirled into every breath and through my bloodstream, under my skin, into every last part of my body, stirring my emotions together like some spiritual stew inside me.

I pounded out the final note of the song and stood before the mic, panting with the exertion. In that moment, the only thing important to me was the heat around my body, the pumping of my heart, the way my breath quickened…

I could hear the sound of clapping break through the quiet and looked up. The audience was giving us applause. I even heard a bit of whooping here and there.

I smiled widely. I was so worried that I'd let them down at our biggest moment… but they like us here too. 

_I did it!_ I felt just as euphoric as I had when we won over the crowd at Sasha's.

With a little more confidence, I leaned into the mic. “Thank you, everyone. Um, I was a little nervous before, so I guess I should introduce us properly.” A laugh sounded in the crowd. “Well, we're Hope Inside Truth, and we're from here… obviously,” I said sheepishly. A few more giggles. “We hope you guys enjoy yourselves, because we want to put on a great show for you tonight. Okay, this next song is called Bury The Hatchet.” We went into a more somber tune which, in spite of the title, was about the inability to forgive a betrayal. 

I felt my euphoric mood increase throughout our set. That our band could even win over a crowd like those at the Tavern gave me hope, a swelling in my heart that sent warmth throughout my entire being.

I felt like I couldn't possibly be pulled down from my cloud when we finished playing and hoisted our gear offstage. I almost couldn't believe I had actually survived a show at the Tavern… I was so sure I wouldn't make it, that I’d bail on the band… but I actually pulled through!

That same high carried me through the conversations with the people who came by our merch table. About ten minutes before the next band was to start, I looked around and noticed someone was missing.

I turned to Mikasa. “Where’d Eren go?”

She pointed to the front door. “He said he needed to get some air. I made sure he was okay first and let him go.” I stopped worrying about him, because I knew that when Mikasa made sure someone was okay, she was meticulously thorough about it, but I still wanted to see him. I thanked her, informed her where I was going, and took off.

I found Eren leaning against the wall by the front door, taking a drag from a cigarette. I stood next to him, making sure I was downwind from the smoke. I hated cigarettes.

“Hey Eren.”

“Hey.” He stared straight into the distance, without even a side glance towards me.

“We did great out there, didn't we?”

“Yeah. It was pretty rad.”

...? _That’s it?_

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just needed a break.” He took another drag and blew out the smoke. I fell silent for a moment, unsure what to say next.

“The next band is going to start soon.”

“I know. I’ll be back in time.”

Eren was oddly quiet. Usually, after a show, he was full of energy and seemed to make a new friend every fifteen minutes. Something was wrong that he wasn't telling me.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“For Christ’s sake, I’m fine!” Eren snapped. “Jesus, stop nagging me already! Why are you even out here?”

I flinched at Eren’s tone. “I… I just wanted to talk. But… I guess you don't want to right now.” I headed back into the club. “I’ll see you later. Just… don't miss the rest of the show, okay?” 

He didn't respond.

 

He was back to his old self by the time the next band started.

As the night went on, I enjoyed the music of the other bands, but kept a close eye on Eren. He seemed like normal while the music was going, but up until the penultimate band was about to play, continuously went outside between sets. I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong, what he was thinking about. 

Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and, unwilling to pry Eren further, I asked Mikasa if she knew anything. 

“Not everything,” she said sadly. “I know he's been through a lot, so he gets like that sometimes. God knows what he's gone through since he left home. The only thing you can do for him is to leave him alone when that happens. Let him come to you if he wants. I know-- I've tried to do more, but he only pushes me away when he's like that.”

Contemplating her words,I turned my head to the far left of the room. Eren was now chatting with a small group of people. His body language had changed since he first left the club. He was now fully open and gregarious, as I usually saw him. 

Somehow, the more I got to know Eren, the more of a mystery he became. What was he hiding behind that bright smile? How deep did his scars possibly go? Did he have a few? A lot? Any? 

_Eren… are you hurting as much as I am?_

 

A few minutes before Coarse Stitches was to take the stage, Eren approached me. 

“Hey Armin… about how I acted earlier…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry about that. I just… there's a lot on my mind.”

Talking the risk, I said, “Did something happen?”

Another sigh. “I don't really want to talk about it.”

I nodded, deciding not to press the issue further. “Well… I'll listen if you ever want to get something off your chest.”

A small smile graced his lips. “Sure. I'll remember that.” 

We just stood in silence after that, waiting for the band to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you guys can tell I'm winging it, but I'm totally winging it. 
> 
> I honestly had a broad outline written for this story, but somewhere along the line, everyone decided to do whatever they wanted like the anarchists they now are, so I'm just making it up as I go at this point. (But it might turn out to be a good thing. I think it will, in fact.) I do still have a few ideas which I will most definitely use, though.
> 
> Title is a lyric from The Magic by Icon For Hire.


	20. Calling Out To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned into filler. XD I swear I had a shocking revelation planned for this chapter... oh well, next chapter for sure.
> 
> On with your reading! Hopefully I didn't mess anything up. ^^"

My success at the Tavern afforded me a great deal of creative momentum over the next week, fueled doubly by meeting, and getting a signed picture with, the members of Coarse Stitches. Eren had taken care of it all: it turned out he was friends with Bolt, their lead singer (a fact which I still found all too surreal), and had broken the ice for me, since I had been too shy to speak. He had brought Bolt over to chat with me, and I… had suffered a bout of starstruck paralysis.

Fortunately, however, it hadn't lasted too long. Once I had forced my mouth open, we wound up having a pretty good conversation. It turned out that Bolt (whose real name was apparently Bertolt, and had been goaded by the other band members into taking on the nickname) was rather timid himself: he had been almost as nervous talking to me as I was to him. But we had an excellent time, he complimented our band (I was still way over the moon about that one), and he had called the others over to take a picture with me and Eren.

It was that picture, signed by Bolt, lead guitarist Rabbit, bassist Tape, and drummer Henny, that fueled me as I sat on my bed that Thursday night, scrawling lyrics into a notebook like a madman.

I had written nearly four pages of material when I heard footsteps coming towards my room. Quickly I shoved my notebook and the picture into the drawer of my nightstand and slammed it shut, just as my father opened the door.

“Oh, hey Dad,” I greeted him as casually as possible.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Oh, just… thinking.”

“What was that noise?”

I scrambled for an alibi, and stumbled upon a small weighted ball on the floor by the chest of drawers, an artifact from Dad’s failed attempts to make me more athletic.

“That ball dropped on the floor,” I said, pointing at it. “I must have put it too close to the edge.” _Please buy that please buy that please buy that…_

He shook his head. “You really must learn to be more careful with your things. Your carelessness is really aggravating me.” Inwardly, I heaved a sigh, too relieved to care about his speech.

“Anyway, are you ready for the event this Saturday?”

“Yes, sir.” I had already informed the others of my inability to practice or play any shows that day. It seemed that Eren was also unavailable on Saturday, having been invited to a similar gathering by his client. I also had my tuxedo prepared.

“You’re sure about that? I won’t have to follow up on you at the last minute?”

 _“Yes,”_ I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

He nodded his head. “Good. You’re nearly a grown man, Armin. You’re too old for me to still be worrying about your sloppiness.” With that, he turned to leave, but not before adding, “Dinner’s almost ready. You should wash up and get ready to come downstairs.”

I waited until I heard his footfalls descend the stairs once more before I carefully shut the door and retrieved my notebook from the drawer. I would try not to take too long, but just for a few minutes, dinner would have to wait.

 

The event was being hosted in a large ballroom, with a vaulted ceiling and a chandelier. Cream-colored drapes with gold trimmings adorned each of the bay windows, as well as the entrances to the balconies. The walls were ivory, the floors beautifully polished hardwood. The edges of the walls were lined with golden leaf patterns. The place was nearly packed with people, all mingling and chatting with each other, while a small live orchestra played classical music. Tables lined a stretch of wall at the end of the hall, stacked with all manner of refreshments-- entrées and snacks, drinks and sweets.

In the middle of all this, I stared into the punch bowl, bored out of my mind.

I had been to several such formal gatherings in the past. I hated all of them. No one ever spoke of anything particularly interesting; in fact, most of their discussion revolved around random gossip. Sometimes they'd discuss politics, but even then, it wasn't about ideas, or even events. Just people.

When the conversation turned to other things, it was mostly small talk: their jobs, their kids, their spouses. Nothing worth listening to or participating in.

Some of them actually brought their kids, but it was still the same with them: gossip and small talk. On top of this, many of them went to my school, so there was a pre-existing mutual agreement of avoidance between us. Hence I stood there, a glass of punch in hand, feeling as though my mind was dying by the minute.

“Armin, why don't you go talk to the other kids? It must be boring hanging around us stuffy old people all day.” I had been standing with my father, “listening” to his conversation with our neighbor, and his co-worker, Mrs. Baxter. She had been the one to speak.

“You know he's shy, Louise,” Dad spoke for me. “I’ve been trying to break him out of it, but he just doesn't respond.”

“It’s because you’re too hard on him, Atticus,” Mrs. Baxter cooed. “Sometimes young boys need a gentle touch to reach their potential.” She stroked Dad’s arm with one finger as she spoke.

Dad swatted her hand away. “He’ll be a man soon… he needs to learn to toughen up. He's already too soft as it is.”

Mrs. Baxter scoffed and rolled her eyes, a small smile curling her mouth. “That's no attitude to take, Atticus. I'm telling you, a woman’s touch is just what he needs to really make a difference. You really should remarry, Atticus.” At the final sentence, she lowered her voice to a more husky tenor.

This sort of exchange always went on between Mrs. Baxter and my father. She was a widow, and hadn't remarried since. Her intentions were currently on Dad-- she had apparently developed feelings for him when they first began working together. Dad continued to reject her advances, which I was quite glad for. I wasn't particularly enamored with the idea of having her son Tobias as a brother-in-law: aside from being one of the kids who frequently tormented me in school, he was a terrible instrument player. He had taken up playing cello last year, and I had been forced to endure his instrument’s caterwauling at the recitals since. I spared a kind thought for whoever was forced to coach him.

“I have no need. I’ve raised Armin just fine on my own so far.” He stared off somewhere in the distance. “You, however, seem to have taken a fancy to the young man you brought with you.”

Mrs. Baxter waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. That's my Toby’s cello tutor. He’s a fine young man, and quite handsome, but he's a bit young for me.” She smiled fondly. “Though I do admit, he’d be just right if he were only a decade older. He’s such a charmer.”

I followed my father’s gaze to see who they were talking about. A young man was chatting with a group of women who had him surrounded. It looked as if he were trying to get out of the conversation, but couldn't find an escape route. He seemed familiar to me… I took a closer look. Jet black hair, warm brown skin, green eyes…

_Crash!_

Pure shock loosened my fingers, causing me to drop my glass of punch. It plummeted to the floor, smashing into pieces, allowing the punch to run free.

“Armin! Look at what you’ve done!” My father scolded me when I dropped the glass.

“Let the boy alone, Atticus. It was only an accident.” Mrs. Baxter put both palms on my face, squeezing my cheeks together. “It was just a little case of butterfingers, huh? I know you didn't mean anything by it.”

I backed quickly away from her, escaping her hold. Mrs. Baxter’s eyes widened, whilst my father’s narrowed.

“I’m sorry… so sorry… but I… have to go,” I announced. “I need… air… I’ll be… right back.” I walked briskly away from the two adults before either one could say anything.

 

The ballroom was surrounded by a huge lawn, and directly near a beach. I sat in the back lawn of the building, against the wall, fighting to hold in my panic despite the errant thoughts running through my head.

_Eren is here… I can't believe it… this is bad…_

The truth was, I was torn. I should have been glad to see Eren. To be able to connect with a friend at a party. In any other situation, I might have.

And yet… I couldn't. Because my father was here too. If he found out that Eren and I knew each other, he would interrogate him, and then he’d find out about our band, and then…

Wait… maybe it wouldn't be so terrible… Mikasa knew about the band, and she didn't say a word. What made me think Eren was going to say anything? He hadn't so far.

But what if _I_ said something? What if my father asked Eren a bunch of questions and I got nervous and confessed? Everything would be ruined forever… I’d lose Mikasa and Eren… everything would fall apart, and it would be my fault… 

A shadow eclipsed my vision: I snapped my head up, expecting my father… but it was Eren's face that greeted me.

“Hey,” he said.

I tried to smile, willing myself to stop shaking. “Hey.”

“Mind if I sit with you?” I shook my head, and he took his place next to me, leaning against the wall.

“Are you okay? I thought I saw you earlier… you dropped a glass and ran.”

I nodded again. “Nerves. It's… a little crowded in here.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“No. Just… I don't really like being around a lot of people.”

“You could have fooled me,” he said, smirking.

I chuckled back. “It's different at a show. Once I’m off stage, I can talk to the audience members because I more or less know we're all there for the same reason. It's the same when I'm not performing. But here, it's… everyone's so different from me… I feel like I'm being judged. I hate being judged. It's why I get so jittery on stage.”

“Heh. I get that.”

“You get judged too?” The side glance he shot me with served as a reminder to answer my question, and I laughed abashedly. “Oh, yeah.”

“I don't think you should worry about it. It’s not really worth it to care about snap judgments people make about you. If they don't want to get to know you properly, they're not worth your time.” A twinge of anger accompanied his words.

“It's hard not to.” I had been trained all my life to care about what others thought of me. My situation at school was because no one thought highly of me. My own father had a highly negative opinion of me. I couldn't not think of what people thought of me.

“Well… try focusing on the people who love you. If you can't form a positive opinion by yourself, make those opinions important instead.”

I stayed silent, a deep breath my only response.

“You think no one loves you.” It wasn't a question. I still didn't answer, afraid that if I spoke, I would end up saying too much.

“Mikasa loves you, you know.”

I should've known that. Objectively, I knew that Mikasa was there for me, and yet… “She'll leave me. She doesn't want me,” I whispered. Eren heard me.

“She wouldn't stick with you as long as she did if she didn't like you. Trust me.”

“I couldn't help but curl my lips into a small smile. “She told me that too.”

“It's usually a good idea to trust what comes straight from the horse’s mouth.” He then put on a mock thoughtful look. “Wait a minute, that's Jean…”

I snorted. We’ve been together for a month and a half, and Eren and Jean were still going at each other. At least the number of near-fistfights had gone down.

“Seriously, though… I know you’ve had it hard, but don't push away your loved ones, okay? Don't take the crappy treatment you got out on them, ‘cause you're going to need them to get through this. They need you, too.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

There was a pause before Eren responded. His response was to reach out and run his fingertips across my temple, pushing some of my hair behind my ear.

That singular action caused several reactions in me that I had yet to understand.

That familiar warmth shot through my body, radiating from my temple inward; my shoulders stiffened just so; my heart slammed into my ribcage like a crazed convict trying to brute force their way out of jail.

None of these were helped by the fact that Eren still held a few strands of hair between his thumb and forefinger, twisting them distractedly.

_What is this…? Why am I…?_

Before I could do or say anything else, Eren suddenly jumped away, as though he had been burned. 

“... sorry.” He cast his eyes to the ground. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“N-no, I… it's fine.” And that was actually the scary part. Though unexpected, I wasn't uncomfortable with Eren’s actions at all.

I was uncomfortable with the idea that I might feel a different way about him than I wanted to.

“We should probably get back inside,” he suggested.

“Yeah.”

 

“Armin, where have you been? The dance is about to start. Why did you run off like that?”

“Sorry. I… I was just nervous. I wasn't feeling very well. I didn't mean to be rude.”

He sighed. Concern crossed his voice when he next spoke. “Will you be okay for the night? Do I need to take you back home?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine now. I can go on.”

“Are you sure? If you're ill, you shouldn't overextend yourself.” 

I nodded. “I’m okay. I'm not sick or anything right now.”

Dad patted me on the shoulder. “You should find a partner for the dance. But remember, if you become ill, you can sit it out.”

“Okay.” Dad left, presumably to find a partner of his own.

“I think I’m going to sit it out myself,” Eren commented. “I really do _not_ want to talk to _Louise_ anymore tonight.” He said the name derisively.

“What happened?" 

“She's just… aggravating. It's like, one minute she's damn near flirting with me, the next she's all condescending and treating me like her five-year-old. Makes me want to rip my hair out.” 

_Sounds like she split the difference between me and my dad and dumped it on Eren._ Still, I felt like it would be out of place for Eren to not dance. I stared at the floor in thought, searching for an idea. 

_Well, we could…_ I threw the idea out. It would only exacerbate the feelings I was trying to abolish. 

But that wouldn't be too bad, would it? Surely it was better to dance with a friend than be paired with someone who hates your guts. Or Mrs. Potts. Whenever my father attended one of these parties, we always ended up running into her; she was nice and all, and I liked her, but she wasn't exactly the best dancer in the world. My feet throbbed just thinking about having to dance with her. 

Eren started to leave to find a seat; I caught hold of his tuxedo sleeve, stopping him. 

“Eren… um…” Great, now I can't form a coherent sentence. “Eren, well… I was thinking… uh… do you, maybe… want to…?” My sentence trailed off, and I wound up communicating the rest of my sentence by twirling my finger. 

Eren raised a crestfallen eyebrow, visibly trying to process my ramble. After a long silence, his eyes widened slightly with understanding. “You're asking me to dance.” 

I nodded. 

Eren bent his arm, offering it to me. “All right then. Let's show them how it's done.” 

I looped my arm through his, and followed him arm-in-arm to the dance floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, they're both such awkward little cuties.
> 
> If you've stuck with me this far, I've got a surprise for you next chapter. Here's a hint: it has to do with Jean.
> 
> Quick note: the characters (read: names) Rabbit, Tape, and Henny come from a comic called Punk Rock Jesus, which I HIGHLY recommend.
> 
> Once again, let me take the time to thank you all for all the love you gave this story. However much you think it means to me, it means ten times more than that. <3
> 
> Title is a tiny piece of a lyric from Lost Within by Fivefold.


	21. Bully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for it, and you shall receive: another new chapter! (Trust me, you have no worries about me dropping this fic... I still have too much plot to reveal.)
> 
> Again I shall thank all of you for your comments and your kudos. (A ton of them came out of nowhere and I just died happy. <3
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter Twenty-one.

Although I had expected it for the most part, I still found myself slightly uncomfortable with the amount of stares Eren and I were getting as we approached the floor. Though I tried my best to ignore this, I was having a hard time with it.

By fixing my eyes on Eren, I was able to bring my attention to something I hadn't allowed myself to notice before. Eren looked wildly different in a tuxedo. He had opted for navy blue instead of black, likely a subtle gesture of rebellion, though the red tie threw all sense of subtlety out the window. The whole ensemble gave Eren a kind of polished look. I averted my eyes, as I began to quickly feel awkward for noticing this.

While the host announced the beginning of the dance, a new distraction finally entered my mind. I opened my mouth to ask, _Do you know how to dance?_ But before a single sound could leave my mouth, Eren took both of my wrists. He set one of my hands across his lower back, holding the other one into the air.

When the music began, Eren took the lead, spinning and swaying to the music.

He was… amazing. Worlds better than I had thought he would be. His movements were smooth and flawless, making me feel light as air as I followed along. It was enough to practically whisk the self-consciousness right out of my mind, as I was drawn to the seamless flow of Eren's movements.

As the dancing continued, I found myself transported away from the Earth’s surface. In fact, I was far away from the planet, past the entire stratosphere, and I danced amongst the stars, still in Eren's arms.

“I’m going to grab something to eat. I’ll be right back.” The comment sent me crashing back to Earth, burning upon reentry. It was then that all the sensations in my body returned at once, including the passage of time (it had been around half an hour, I thought) and the rumble of my stomach which I had somehow failed to notice, informing me that I, too, was hungry. “I’ll come with you,” I replied.

We returned to the refreshments table, where the both of us picked up some cocktail franks and baby potatoes. I poured myself another glass of punch, while Eren went to the bar for a glass of bourbon. Having obtained our refreshments, we sat together by one of the bay windows.

“Eren?”

“Huh?”

“... where'd you learn to dance like that?”

Eren turned to me, smiling shrewdly. “You thought I didn't know how because I'm black.”

“No, not at all! It’s just that, I didn't think you'd be interested… you seemed like you'd rather be in the mosh pit than in the ballroom.”

He nodded. “You wouldn't be wrong… I always thought these things were kind of pretentious. Trouble is, when both your parents are doctors, going to ritzy formal parties is pretty much a requirement. They used to have to drag me over there kicking and screaming, before they got the idea to start bribing me every time they had to bring me to one of those events.” He laughed, a hearty, melodic sound. “I must have dragged them to the Tavern about as many times as they made me go to one of those parties.”

“What kind of doctors were they?”

“Mom was an optometrist, Dad was a GP. They actually met when he went to her office for an eye exam; I always loved that story,” he said.

“What were they like? Your parents?”

Eren smiled fondly. “Best parents in the world. But then, everybody says that about their parents, don't they? Mine, though, they really were great. My dad was super open-minded about damn near everything, and my mom, she was really kind and kind of free-spirited. They were really supportive too… I could have told them I wanted to move to Chicago, start a potato farm, and join a traveling burlesque show, and they would just say, ‘go for it. We hope you're happy.’” His face fell then. “I miss them so much.”

I nodded. “Me too. My mom, I mean.”

Eren opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, another voice spoke over him. “Young man.”

The two of us looked up. My father stood before us, fixing Eren with a stern look.

“Oh, hey Armin's dad.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid that isn't my name.”

Eren grinned at him. “Right, sorry. Your name’s Atticus, right?”

“Yes. But I would prefer if you would call me Mr. Arlert.”

Eren nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“If you have a moment, I’d like to speak to you. Alone.”

Eren widened his eyes in mock terror. “I’m not in trouble with the cops, am I?”

“I should hope you're not,” Dad replied, without even a hint of amusement, causing Eren to pout disappointedly.

“Armin, if you would,” my father ordered me. I looked to Eren, true distress filling my eyes, and Eren smiled reassuringly. “I’m just talking to your dad… I’ll be fine. I’ll probably see you around,” he said cryptically.

I got up and walked off, trying not to invent scenarios of all that could go wrong.

I stood at the railing of one of the deserted balconies, staring into the night sky. The moon was high in the sky, a huge ball of reflected light in the sky, and the stars around it shined brightly, a million tiny crystals in the inky black night. I hoped Eren was faring well in his conversation with my father. I knew what that look meant that he had given Eren… very few people recovered from the interrogations Dad gave.

My mind began to dance with the memory of swaying in Eren's embrace. The feel of being close to him. The warmth radiating from him.

Back there, I had felt… so many things. Warm. Calm. Safe?

It terrified me to feel that way. I had seen what happens to people who allowed themselves to be that vulnerable. I had experienced, the hard way, the consequences of such closeness.

I didn't want to let it happen. To give anyone the power to hurt me like that. The only person I knew who didn't abuse that power was Mikasa.

And yet… would I be able to stop it?  
Should I stop it?

The mere idea that I was willing to let-- whatever this was-- go on was frightening.

“So you are a queer after all.”

I turned sharply to face the owner of the voice that had come from my left side. Tobias Baxter leaned against the railing of the balcony, fixing me with a scower.

“... I don't know what you're talking about.”

“We always knew that Annie girl was just a cover. And now you went and turned Jean into one too.”

His rant came completely out of nowhere. Frankly, it made little sense to me. I was used to his name calling, but I couldn't figure out just what I did to trigger it this time, nor could I make sense of his accusation. “I’m not following.”

“You and the cello teacher… you're not supposed to enjoy not having a real partner, but you were hanging on him like you thought you were Cinderella or something.”

I felt a pang in my stomach. “... we’re just friends.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, sure… with benefits, maybe.” He shuddered. “Ugh, just the thought is disgusting.”

“... your mother's here, you know,” I pointed out, hoping this would make him leave.

“What are you going to tell her? That I came out here to get some air and found you here stinking it up?”

“I'll tell her you're threatening me,” I informed him, trying not to stammer it out.

“You’re not stupid enough…we still have to see each other in school,” he sneered. “I’ll just get you back later.”

“I can tell the teachers. Or the principal. You'd be in more trouble if you got suspended.”

“Don't think you’ve got everybody brainwashed like you did to Jean,” he snarled.

“I didn't brainwash anybody.”

“Then why did he suddenly quit nearly all his clubs and start following you around?”

I could ask Jean the same question. “I don't know. He just showed up out of nowhere one day and said he wanted to talk.”

He sucked his teeth. “Maybe he was already a queer,” he said, his voice heavy with contempt. “I never pegged him for one; I thought maybe that kid Marco was lying, but I guess not.”

That comment piqued my interest. “About what?”

“I guess nerds really are locked out of the rumor mill,” he jeered. “That Marco spread this rumor that he and Jean were going out. Jean put him in his place fast enough. Told him to get out of his face.” He advanced towards me. “Not that it matters now, since he's decided to prance around in the fairy garden lately. I should have known something was up when he suddenly started telling us to leave you alone. He hated you as much as we did.”

I probably should have just run at this point. That would have been the most logical decision. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the better of me. “Why does it even matter who Jean hangs out with?”

In response, Tobias grabbed my shirt collar and forced me backwards, causing me to dangle over the edge of the railing.

“Because, _Legout,_ ” he spat, “if anybody thought I had been hanging out with somebody like that, my reputation would plummet. I would rather not be reduced to the same level as the likes of you. If Jean decides he wants to hang around nerds and fairies, he can do it without me. I'm not going to be dragged down with him.” 

“What the hell is going on here?”

Tobias snapped around; I picked my head up. Eren stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face set into a hard glare.

“Oh… The cello teacher.” He smirked at Eren. “I just wanted to see if your _friend_ here could fly,” he said, in a mock childlike tone.

“I’ll teach you how to fly if you don't let Armin go.” Eren’s voice came out raw and savage.

“What are you going to do, attack your own student?” Tobias jeered. “My mother's in the ballroom, you know… she’ll fire you if you do something to me.”

Eren took a great step forward, leaning his body forward in a lunge. “Are you blackmailing me, you little--?!”

“Eren,” I called to him. “Eren, just forget it. It’s not worth losing your job over.”

“If you think I'm going to let this little twerp push you around--!”

“Eren,” I pleaded. “There’s nothing he can do to me that he hasn't already. But I can't let you get hurt in this too, so just drop it!”

“Yeah, _Eren, _just drop it. It’s not like I'm gonna hurt your little boyfriend… Much,” Tobias taunted.__

____

“I'm warning you: let. Him. Go.”

“Or what?”  


Eren took a few moments to respond. When he did, it was to grab Tobias by the jacket collar and yank him backwards. He released his grip on my shirt as he was pulled, causing me to nearly tip over the railing, before Eren seized my jacket and hurled me back to the floor.

He turned his attention back to Tobias, and earned a fist to the jaw for it, as Tobias had gotten up and came at Eren swinging. He tried to punch Eren again, but was intercepted by the other’s knee smashing into his stomach. Seizing the opportunity, Eren grabbed Tobias by the shirt and returned the punch he had gotten earlier. Twofold. He swung for the third, only to have Tobias grab his arm mid-swing and throw him to the floor.

As the fight continued, Tobias and Eren eventually pushed each other back into the ballroom. I followed them, desperate to find a way to stop the violence. I couldn't let this go on… but what could I do?

I ended up not having to do anything. A shrill voice shouted, “what do you two think you're doing?!”

The two stopped exchanging blows and looked up, as did I. Mrs. Baxter came running to the scene, the host and my father sauntering behind her.

She pushed Eren out of the way and ran to Tobias. She then turned to Eren and shouted, “Young man, what do you think you're doing to my son?!”

“Why don't you ask your son what he was doing to Armin, _Louise,_ ” Eren said. “I caught this little coward dangling Armin over the balcony!”

“That's impossible! My Toby is a fine young man!" 

“I didn't know ‘fine young men’ could be bullies. Maybe I need to update my dictionary.”

“He’s lying, Mom!” Tobias wailed. “I-I was just trying to talk to Armin and h-he attacked me!”

“If you don't tell the truth right now, you lying little snake--!”

“Enough.” The host interrupted with the single stern word. He looked Eren and Tobias over. “I’m not sure what is going on here, but one thing is clear: two young men, who should be more distinguished, are engaging in violence. I cannot merely let the two of you walk away scot-free; however, I am interested in the truth about how this started-- and there's one more party involved whom we still haven't heard from.” At that, the host turned to me.

My father followed his gaze. “If there's one thing I know about my son, it's that he doesn't lie. Is Tobias telling the truth, Armin?”

A quick glance at Tobias tempted me to say yes; he was shooting me a nasty grin, which I knew meant I was dead if I didn't cooperate with him.

I might have, if I hadn't then glanced towards Eren.

He met my eyes for only a few seconds, and averted his eyes to the ground. Though it didn't last long, I knew exactly what the look he gave me meant.

It was a look that told me that he _expected_ me to throw him under the bus.

I knew then that I had to prove him wrong.

Eren had helped our band, and just now he’d defended me. I couldn't pay him back with betrayal.

If ever there was a good time to defend myself, it was now.

I looked straight into my father’s eyes. “No, Dad. He-he's lying.” I took a deep breath before continuing.

“He… Tobias was… threatening me. He-he was accusing me… of, um… he held me over the balcony…”

“That’s a lie!”

“Tobias.” My father silenced him with a stern glare before turning back to me. “Go on, Armin.”

“Eren was… trying to defend me. He pulled Tobias away, and then Tobias, he… he hit Eren, and… that's how it started,” I trailed off.

As I forced myself to finish the story, I could feel Tobias’s glare on my back. My father turned his gaze back to the other boy. “Tobias? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“He’s lying, Mr. Arlert! He’s just defending that guy because they're both fags!”

“Young man!” Mrs. Baxter snapped at him. “We did not raise you to use such disrespectful language. We will speak further about this at home.” She grabbed his ear and twisted, then turned to Eren and nodded once. “Eren, I’m sorry Tobias caused you so much trouble.” She turned to me. “And you too, Armin. If he ever does anything like that again, you don't hesitate to tell me.” She led Tobias out of the ballroom, still pinching his ear.

Dad turned to Eren, sparing his own single nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you for defending my son.”

Eren shook his head. “I just don't like seeing people get hurt.”

A small smile spread across Dad’s face. “An admirable trait. I’m sorry I misjudged you, the world could use more people like you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m quite glad you're a friend of Armin's. Though you're a bit older than I’d like, he can learn from you.” Dad clapped him on the shoulder. 

“I agree,” the host said. “Unfortunately, he will still have to leave for tonight. Although it wasn't quite your fault, and you did not strike first, we do not tolerate violence at this establishment.”

Eren shrugged. “It's cool. I’ll head back home.” He shot me a casual wave before walking out the door.

I was fixated on what Tobias had said for the rest of the night. 

Even on the ride home with my father, I was still unable to purge it from my mind. 

Marco had said he and Jean had had a falling out… c could this have been what it was? Had it been about that rumor? 

And who had been the one to spread it? There was no way Marco could have done out… I knew Marco too well, and there was no way that he would have done something like that. 

How had Tobias not known that Jean and Marco were friends? I had known: Jean was all Marco ever talked about when her was alive. How could Tobias have not known? Had Jean hidden it from him somehow? Why? 

The questions continued to boggle my mind even as I walked into the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: bullies are hard to write. Even for me, and I've been bullied. I'm not sure why.
> 
> Second confession: I actually want to bring Annie into the story at some point. Let's see what happens, guys.
> 
> Don't worry guys, Jean is not a bad guy. We'll see what he has to say for himself next chapter.
> 
> If I've managed not to mess anything up, thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Title is a song by Shinedown.


	22. I Never Meant To Do Those Things To You

When we got home, I asked Dad if I could change my clothes and stay over at Mikasa's house. After getting his permission, I changed into a white polo and a pair of jeans and headed there.

“How was the party? Mikasa asked, when she opened the door. 

“It was okay,” I said, not entirely willing to tell the whole truth. “Did Eren come by here?”

She smiled-- a knowing smile which, to be honest, worried me a little-- and nodded. “He's in the guest room. Said he didn't feel like going any further.” She stared sadly at the staircase. “I wish we could get him to come back home. He won't stay here.”

“He won't?”

She shook her head. “Uncle Keith told him he was welcome to stay, but he’ll only ever stick around overnight.” Her brow furrowed then. “Eren said he saw you at the party… what happened to him back there? His mouth was bleeding when he showed up…”

“Um…” Oh boy. What could I tell her? “Eren got in a fight,” I offered lamely.

“I figured. Why was he fighting?”

Now I’m scared. She was clearly trying to draw some sort of information out of me. “Well, there was this guy there… he was messing with Eren…”

“Tobias?”

I thought my heart was going to stop right then and there. Eren must have told her already. “Um... well…”

“Was he bullying you again?”

It seemed my only option at this point was word vomit. “I swear, Mikasa, I told Eren to not get into it, I didn't want him hurt, but he pulled me away and then Tobias hit him and--”

She grabbed my shoulders, stopping my rambling. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no. Just… alarmed me.”

“He’d better not have.” She lowered her hands from my shoulders. “I have a bone to pick with him tomorrow for touching my brother, though.”

“Mikasa, please don't…”

“Don't worry about it. It's between me and him. You have someone else to see.” She gave me a small smile before heading upstairs, presumably to her own room.

It was an astronomical impossibility to not worry about it, but I tried to anyway as I ascended the stairs. Once at the top, I went into the bathroom to change into my nightclothes, then bypassed Mikasa's room, where I normally go, and instead headed straight to the guest room.

Eren was sitting on the bed, already in his pajamas, polishing his cello. “Oh, hey Armin,” he greeted me.

“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Mikasa, she…”

“Yeah. I told her. She kind of forced it out of me; that girl is like a living lie detector.”

“It is kinda hard to hide stuff from her, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” He looked up at me. “What else brings you?”

“Well, um…” I tried to come up with another subject. “Um… what did my dad mean by he ‘misjudged’ you?”

He snorted. “Oh, he thought I was going to hurt you or something because I'm four years older than you, so he made a bunch of subtle threats. Just a dad spiel.”

“Oh.” After that, I couldn't think of a thing to say to him. I just stood there, watching him polish the cello.

Finally, Eren broke the ice. “Still can't sleep alone?”

? “... no.”

“You going back home?”

“Not tonight… why?”

“Ever since you told me that, I’ve been thinking about it… I wanted to give you something that might help. I guess I can give it to you anyway.”

A duffle bag rested on the floor to Eren's left; he reached inside and began digging around, eventually retrieving a black zip-up hoodie. He tossed it to me, and I barely caught it. 

I took a look at it. The front was emblazoned with a large, red-outlined E with a knife-like design. “It looks pretty cool.”

He grinned proudly. “Made it myself. Not the whole thing, but I made a few modifications. I have the stencil for that design, so I’ve got a couple more.”

It was nice of him to give this to me, but… “How is this…?”

He smiled knowingly and pointed. “Check the lining of the hood.”

I did as he said, and to my surprise, found a pair of earphones sewn in, tucked into a small pocket in the lining, and embedded into the inner edge.

“It leads to the little cell phone pocket on the left. You plug in your phone, and nobody will have a clue.” He went back to polishing his cello. “You said music helps, right?”

I couldn’t believe he remembered that. For a little while, I was rendered speechless, until I finally forced my mouth open. “T-thank you…” I moved closer, and sat on the bed next to him. “Back at the ballroom, too… I didn’t get to thank you for that.”

He just nodded sagely and leaned his cello against a nearby wall. “You’ve never stood up to that guy before, have you?”

As shameful as it was to admit… “... no.”

“I could tell. You looked like you were about to lie for him back there.”

“Yeah. He’ll probably kill me later,” I laughed, “but it was kind of worth it.”

I glanced at Eren, to find him not laughing at all. In fact, his eyes were filled with sadness. The look alarmed me a bit… I wondered why…?

Before I could try to read his expression, he threw his arms around me, pulling me closer. Startled for a few moments, eventually I wrapped my own arms around him in return. This close, the scent of sweet basil and brake fluid hit my nostrils. 

“I have no idea what this is for… but thank you.”

“For both of us being treated like we're less than human,” he replied.

Neither of us said anything for a while after that. Just stayed there and held each other. After some time, Eren broke the silence once more.

“Why is Jean in this band?”

I pulled away to look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“That twerp said he picked on you in school.”

A jolt ran through my veins. Eren overheard that? “Well, he…” I took a breath, let it out. “He was… the only one. He was the only one who auditioned for the bassist’s position. I had to let him in, for the band.”

“Armin… that doesn't make any sense,” Eren scolded me. “You put yourself in danger just so your band can have a bassist?”

“I… I don't think he wants to hurt me. If he joined the band… maybe he's changed.”

“People never change, Armin. Ever. They trick you into thinking that they have, and then just perpetually repeat the same things over and over again.” He glared angrily at the wall during his speech.

I shook my head. “I think I'm right about this. I'm sure he joined the band for a reason, but I don't think it was to do anything, or he would have done it by now.”

He sighed deeply. “I don't know… but I hope you're right.”

I smiled at him confidently. “I am.” Granted, I wasn't _entirely_ sure… but it was the only thing I could think of.

 

The last thing I expected to end up doing that night was sleeping with Eren.

Not like that. Since I had told my father I was staying over, and didn't particularly want to go home anyway, I rose from Eren’s bed and announced that I was headed for Mikasa’s room.

Right as I had reached the doorway...

“You don’t have to go.”

The murmur was so low I nearly didn’t hear it. I turned back slowly. “Huh?”

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay if you want.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that statement. “Wha...?”

“I mean… if you stayed in here… I wouldn't be upset or anything.”

“Um…” I didn't particularly mind staying with Eren, but I’d still have to go to Mikasa's room for my sleeping bag. I told him as much.

He shrugged. “You don't need to. We can both use the bed, it's big enough.”

Despite Eren's nonchalant attitude, I could still feel heat rise throughout my face and body. I’d been in the same bed with Mikasa before, usually when one of us wound up somehow misplacing the cot or the sleeping bag, but the idea of sharing a bed with Eren seemed… strange. Weird.

Was it because I haven't known him for very long? Maybe?

A barely-there smile crossed his face. “You don't have to just stand there looking awkward, you know. If you don't want to stay, you don't have to.”

My mind sent a signal to my legs to make me turn around and go to Mikasa's room to go to bed. My legs, seeming to have manifested a mind of their own, rejected the message and instead made their way towards Eren's bed, sitting on the edge.

Eren responded by smiling and vaulting into the bed, scooting over to the other side to give me room. I climbed in, pulling the blankets over my body.

And so I lay there, staring at the ceiling, beside Eren Yeager in the same bed, trying to quell my heart’s sudden interest in competitive gymnastics.

Eren ruffled my hair. He may as well have installed three extra sets of uneven bars, balance beams, and a pommel horse in the gym currently being built in my chest. “Night, 

“... night.”

I wound up staring at the ceiling for most of the night before I drifted off to sleep, wondering why I was actually not uncomfortable here. Why I felt so much like I could trust Eren.

 

It was back to business as usual the next day.

Sort of. There had actually been a couple of surprises that particular day.

The first was Mikasa. She had, despite my protests, taken to walking me to every class I had, even making herself late to her own courses on more than one occasion. No matter what I said to attempt to dissuade her, she remained resolute in her decision.

“I am _not_ going to let Tobias touch you again,” she had said. “I’ll feed him his own intestines if he tries.”

“Mikasa, this is making your own performance suffer. Your grades are going to end up going down if you keep being late.”

She shrugged. “I’ll change classes then.”

“I-I can’t let you do that! You’ve got your own friends and stuff, you can’t derail your life like that--!”

“Armin.” She put her hands on my shoulders, silencing me. “You’re important to me, too. You’re the most important. I can’t let anything happen to you. I already lost Eren once. I’m not losing you, too.”

“But…" why?

She smiled sadly and stroked my hair. “Someday you’re going to learn your own worth.”

 

When the second surprise came, it had been a bit more alarming.

After school, Eren and I sat in Mikasa's garage alone, waiting for her and Jean. Jean was late to practice today, and although we could have technically started without him, the music didn't quite sound right to me without the bass line. So we waited; Mikasa had gone to pick up some snacks in the meantime.

Not long after Mikasa had gone, Jean burst through the garage door, looking irritated.

“Sorry guys,” he started. “My mom was bugging me about taking out the trash; she wouldn't let me go until I did it.” He looked around the room. “Hey, where's Mikasa?”

“Jean.” His name came out hard on Eren's tongue, and he had risen from his seat. “I need to talk to you.”

Jean clicked his teeth. “What do you want, Yeager?”

“I want to ask you something. Alone.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say to me, you can say it in front of Armin. I don't have anything to hide.”

“That’s rich, coming from you… but alright then.” He strode towards the taller boy until their faces were inches apart, a savage scowl twisting his face. “I heard somewhere that you used to bully Armin. Is that true?”

Somehow I wasn't exactly prepared for Eren to make that remark just then. Neither had Jean been; his eyes had widened, jaw dropping. “What?”

Eren, in response, grabbed Jean by his shirt and slammed him into the nearest wall.

“I said,” he growled, “did you use to pick on Armin?”

Jean’s face was a well of panic. “Who told you--?”

“Answer me!” Eren slammed Jean once more into the wall for emphasis.

Jean paused. He looked at Eren, looked at me, and then finally cast his eyes to the floor.

“It’s true.”

Eren was silent for a few moments, his scowl intensifying, fists shaking in anger. Then…

“You bastard!” he cried, smashing his fist into Jean’s cheek.

Jean attempted to push Eren off, but he was only thrown to the floor for his efforts. Eren straddled him, continuing to pummel the other boy.

“First you abandoned your so-called ‘best friend,’ and then you had to ruin Armin's life too!?” Eren yelled between blows.

I grabbed Eren's arm and tried to pull him off Jean. Like that was going to work. “Eren, stop it!”

Eren only shoved me off, causing me to crash to the floor on my bottom. “What do you know about Mar--?” Jean said, before Eren resumed his onslaught.

“Why are you even in this band?! What else were you planning to do to him?!”

“I’m here because I happen to have _talent._ ” Jean finally shoved Eren off and stood, spitting the word at him. “And I don't want to do anything except play music!” 

Undeterred, Eren grabbed Jean’s face, smashing it against his knee. “Don’t you dare lie to me, you goddamn scheming horsefaced bully!”

“Eren, just stop! I don't care anymore!” I was hysterical. I needed help. I needed Mikasa. Mikasa could have stopped this.

Speak of the devil, as they say.

Mikasa herself stormed through the garage door and yanked Eren away. She glowered at Jean, her eyes blazing.

“Would either of you care to explain why the _hell_ you were fighting?” She spoke slowly, her voice lined with razors.

“Eren was the only one fighting here,” Jean murmured, a little annoyed, as he stood up.

“Did you know about what he did to Armin?!” Eren rounded on Mikasa this time.

“I know about him,” she responded, her voice tight. 

“And you let Armin keep him here?! He could've hurt one of you!”

“I told Armin I didn’t want him. But he insisted. And he wouldn't,” she said, scowling at Jean again.

Eren turned to me, his eyes demanding answers. “Armin, you shouldn't--!”

“I don't care anymore.” My response was quiet, but apparently audible. “If it means still having the band, I’ll do anything. I don't care what happens to me. I just... I want this dream to come true.”

I heard my name spoken quietly:

“Armin…” Mikasa said.

“Armin, I…” Jean began.

“Armin, I still think that’s ridiculous,” Eren said, his voice still raised somewhat. “Your safety is more important than having a bassist around. You can't be in a band if you're dead or in the hospital! Suppose he would have bullied you while he was here--!”

“I wouldn’t!” Jean interjected.

“Only because Mikasa is here, right?!”

“Mikasa has nothing to do with it! For your information, I actually care about him!”

“How could you?! You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

“That’s not true!”

“You bullied Armin, you drove your own friend to suicide--!”

“ _You think I don't know that?!_ ” Jean finally exploded. “I’m aware of all of that! I have to live with it every single day! My very existence reminds me of what I did-- I wake up every day, and every time I look in the mirror, all I see is a murderer staring back at me!” His voice cracked, his eyes on the verge of tears. “He was my best friend, the only real friend I ever had, and I killed him because I was selfish and stupid! Because I sold him out over some stupid rumor!”

I stared at Jean, completely flabbergasted. I never imagined he even thought about Marco-- he was practically the school darling, one of the most popular boys there.

“Tobias said something about a rumor…” I started, slowly. “He was at the party, and he brought it up…”

Jean nodded. “One of the guys in our group, his name was Peter, he saw us hanging out somewhere and spread it to get back at me for something, and Tobias blamed Marco. Marco defended our friendship… and I turned my back on him. He would have taken a bullet for me, and I… I couldn't even…” He swallowed and cast his eyes to the floor, his fists balled, his body shaking.

A pause, and then Eren broke the silence once more. “So… to keep your stupid reputation intact… you sacrificed your best friend. Are you even aware how monstrous that is?!”

Jean nodded. “It's all I can think about ever since it happened.” He stepped closer to Eren. 

“Alright, you know everything now… you want to hit me? You want to beat my ass because I murdered Marco, go ahead. I deserve it.” He glared into Eren's eyes, his own beginning to overflow. “But don't ever say I want to hurt Armin, because I wouldn't lay a hand on him. I'm not that person anymore.”

Though Eren stared back at him, his eyes narrowed, he didn't seem altogether too interested in punching him anymore. Instead he asked, “Why did you join this band?”

“... I was trying to make up for what I did.” He paused, sighing.

“After Marco died, we had to do this project… it was this stupid ‘getting-to-know-you’ thing. They put us in pairs, and we had to tell each other stuff about ourselves. I got Armin.

I remembered that project. It was one of very few assignments I had completely flunked. I had written a make-up essay in exchange, and hidden the entire debacle from my father.

“We had two weeks to complete the project, and Armin wouldn't talk to me for most of it. I told him some things, but he wouldn’t say anything. At some point, though, he shoved some of his lyrics at me. Said it was his way of holding up his end of the assignment. When I read them… they were amazing. But they were all so sad. Like he was just completely broken. Some of them were really angry. And I knew at least part of that was my fault.” He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, and continued. “I tried talking to him again after that, but he always avoided me. I couldn’t get a single word through to him. When he did let me talk to him, he gave me one-word answers and walked away. So I got an idea. I knew enough from Marco to know that he was in a band and Marco was their bassist. I thought that if I joined the band, I could show Armin I’ve changed. But it wasn't enough.” His voice choked with sadness once more. “I can't think of anything I could do that would be enough to make up for this. Even if I died, I couldn’t repent for this.” He slid down the wall, sitting back on the floor, the tears he’d been trying to fight finally escaping him, his face buried in his arm.

“Armin, Marco… I’m sorry. I swear to god I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t the first time I had found myself at a loss for words. I looked to Eren: he was considering Jean with curious suspicion, his head cocked to the side. Next I turned to Mikasa: her expression was neutral, though I could see a twinge of pity.

I watched Jean cry for half a minute before I finally realized what to say. Slowly I approached him, the words solidified in my head. It was what I wanted to say, and what Jean needed to hear.

I crouched down next to him once I’d arrived, and laid a hand on his head.

“I forgive you.”

Jean looked up at me, his eyes moist, his expression startled. “You…?”

I nodded. “It’s… well, it’s not okay. None of it was okay. But I believe you. That you’ve changed.”

For a few moments, Jean looked conflicted. Then he yanked me close and threw his arms around me. Jolted at first, I wound up recovering enough to return the hug.

“Marco… would he… do you think…?” Jean asked, after he’d let go.

“I can’t say for sure. But I think he would have believed you, too. You were all he ever talked about, when he was alive.”

Jean hummed a laugh. “When he was with me, all he talked about was you and Mikasa and your band.”

That was all either of us said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I get to reveal what happened between Jean and Marco! Hopefully it was worth the wait. I tried my hardest to make it so.
> 
> My poor Eren... he keeps getting into fights.
> 
> I actually had the whole scene pre-written, but I had to make a few tweaks here and there.
> 
> Thought I'd clear up what Hope Inside Truth's genre actually is, because I didn't know myself. I know I had Armin say pop-punk in one chapter, but they're actually a blend of hardcore punk, post-hardcore, and metalcore, with a sprinkling of emo-pop. (Now you guys can have an inkling of what the hell they sound like. XD)
> 
> Title is from The Reason by Hoobastank.


	23. We've Unscripted, Now We Do What We Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, I finally got this chapter done! I was going to post a different version a few days ago, but I hated it. XD I think this one's better, but you guys tell me what you think.
> 
> Without further ado, I'll just shut up until the endnote.

Over the next two weeks, a strange atmosphere began to linger in the air around the band in the wake of Jean’s confession. On one hand, it was somewhat more tense to be around him. Yet at the same time, it was as if a weight had been lifted from our shoulders. I had wanted to say something to him about it, but couldn't summon any words. I imagined Mikasa felt the same, though nothing showed on her face. Jean himself seemed even more afraid to speak to either of us than he had before, only opening his mouth to make suggestions or ask questions.

A similar transformation had happened between Eren and Jean. The two were somehow simultaneously more and less hostile towards each other than they had been before. Thankfully, their altercations lately mostly involved seething glares and volleying insults rather than the near-constant attempted fistfights which had once punctuated their relationship. Indeed, the two appeared to have formed a strange sort of truce with each other, a ceasefire of any physical blows, where verbal attacks were still fair game.

For myself, I found that I was at as loss for a way to close the growing distance. I had thought about merely striking up a conversation myself-- but about what? Small talk wasn't exactly my favorite pastime in the world, and as far as I knew, Jean and I had nothing in common, save for being in the same band.

At least, that was what I thought.

I sat in a chair in Mikasa's garage, tuning my guitar. I was alone with Jean, as he had arrived early, and the garage was filled with an awkward silence. We had never actually been alone together before; Mikasa was nearly always around with us, but today she had taken a make-up class for school after her karate class.

I decided to kill the lull. “You mind if I put on some music?”

He shrugged. “It's not my house.”

I rummaged around in my bag until I found the small speaker I carried around with me. Plugging it into my phone, I pressed play, shuffling to a random song. It turned out to be Make A Move by Icon For Hire.

I bobbed my head up and down to the beat, miming along with the guitar riffs.

“ _... everyone started out a little insane, but we learned pretty quick how to fake it for the game…_ ”

The deep, rumbling murmur did not come from the audio, nor did it come from me. I quickly snapped my head up, and found Jean mouthing along with the lyrics.

“You know this song?”

Jean looked at me like I’d just found his stash of illicit paraphernalia. “What makes you think that?”

“You were singing along…” I was pleasantly surprised by this. “How come you never told us you liked this kind of music?”

“Why, you got a problem with it?! What does it matter what I like?!” Jean suddenly became defensive.

“Why would I have a problem with that? I like it too…”

Jean blinked a few times, then smiled apologetically and laughed. “Sorry… force of habit. When I was with Tobias’s crew, admitting you liked anything considered ‘emo’ or ‘scene’ was tantamount to suicide, so I had to keep it quiet. I got used to being hyper vigilant about it.”

“That's awful.”

“It kinda was,” he smiled, and then threw up his arms in a stretch. “Man, it feels so freeing just to admit to that one band, though. It was like lugging around sacks full of bricks.”

“What's your favorite song?”

“That one, easily. Make A Move, I mean.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “What about you?”

“Rock and Roll Thugs.”

“I can kind of see why.” He turned away, his features forming an introspective stare. “Make A Move always made me feel like I had the guts to stand up to them. But I never did. I just kept on going with the flow. Because it was easy.”

“At least you've learned now. You’ve changed.”

“But at what cost?” He cast his eyes to the floor. “I gave up my best friend to live the easy life… if I had just been a little more brave, less self-absorbed, he might still be alive.” He looked into my eyes, his light brown ones distressed. “I really am sorry, Armin. I didn't mean for it to happen.”

“I know. But it happened. You’ve made your choice already. Once it's in the past, there's nothing you can do about it. What's important is that you’ve also chosen not to repeat your mistake. I know you want to change and come closer to everyone. But if you want to reform, you have to let us get to know you, and we can't if you spend all our time together dwelling on your past mistakes.” 

He blinked, shocked, before giving me a shaky smile. “Why did that feel like the intersection of a pat on the back and a punch in the face?”

My own lips curled into a smile back at him. “What was the first song you heard?”

From Icon For Hire, we wound up talking about bands in general. I learned that he really liked Jimmy Eat World, The Offspring, Anberlin, and The Used, but he couldn't stand AFI or Good Charlotte (I couldn't help but chuckle at this, as I had heard Eren complain about Good Charlotte more than once… those two had more in common than they liked to admit). I learned that he’d never been to a concert before he joined the band, that he had various posters for the bands he liked hidden in his closet (“Maybe it's about time I brought them out”), and that he had a desire to enter a mosh pit, but was too nervous (“Yeah, me too,” I said sheepishly).

“We should go together one day. Just as fans, you know, instead of musicians.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

“I mean it, Armin… we really do need to hang out more.”

“I know… thank you.”

His expression morphed into something between shrewd and mischievous. “You don't sound like you're sure.”

“... I am.”

He leaned in closer. “You sound like you're wavering a little.”

I leaned away. “... no?”

Jean's behavior was getting eerie. “That sounded like a question mark, Armin."

“... that's called a rising inflection.”

“I know that.” Before I could even begin to process what was going on or hope to intercept it, Jean had me in a headlock and was rubbing his knuckles across the top of my head.

“Aaahh! Jean, cut it out!” I tried to push my way out of the hold, to no avail.

“We're hanging out, right?”

“I said yes already!”

“Say you're sure.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure!”

“Absolutely?”

“For god’s sake, yes!”

He finally let me go then, laughing silently to himself. I glared at him, massaging the top of my head.

“What was that about? That was awful.”

He composed himself just enough to respond. “Marco used to hate that too. I swear, I think if he wasn't so kind-hearted, he’d still be kicking my ass.”

I threw up my hands in confusion. “Then why did you keep doing it?”

“Because it pissed him off.” He smiled fondly with the memory. “There's something fun about working your friend's nerves, you know?”

“I don't think there would be anything fun about intentionally aggravating Mikasa.”

“Yeah, I'm not going there. I know my limits. I'm not trying to die young.”

As the mutual image of our brutal, violent deaths at the hands of Mikasa passed unsaid between us, the two of us laughed in unison.

 

“How come nobody told me about the party?”

The two of us looked up from our hardcore dance session. Eren and Mikasa had just arrived in the garage, standing by the door.

“Nobody invited you, that's why,” Jean responded to Eren's question.

“What do you even know about any of this music? Weren't you a jock or something?”

“A lot more than you think, actually,” I chimed in. “You two should talk to each other more. Other than arguing, I mean. You're actually kind of similar, you know?”

Identical looks of pure horror twisted their faces. “There's no way,” they said at once, and then…

“I’m not an annoying idiot!”

“I'm not a narcissistic horse-face!”

The two sentences were spoken as one, and the two males scowled at each other. I had to stifle a laugh.

“We should start practicing,” Mikasa interrupted their spat. It was enough to gain their attention. “Eren, you said we have a gig next Saturday… we need to be prepared for that.”

Eren nodded in acknowledgement. Jean said, “Yeah… you're right.” He picked up his bass and slung the strap over his shoulder.

Eren headed for the door. “I'm gonna have a smoke, I’ll be right back.”

Jean grinned devilishly. “Using your filthy habit to get out of working?”

“I work twice as hard as you do in this band, Kirshtein!”

“And you miss notes twice as much, too. You're not above a metronome, even if you think you are.”

“You can't even keep time _with_ a metronome, bass player!”

“Enough.” The sharp interjection came from Mikasa, and was enough to silence them both.

I took over from her. “Eren, Jean, you both still have things you need to work on. Insulting each other isn't going to make either of you any better. Eren, go do what you need to do. Mikasa, Jean, you guys should tune your instruments.”

“I tuned my bass already,” Jean said.

“Okay, then when Mikasa's done tuning, we’ll work on some riffs with her until Eren gets back.”

“Shouldn't we wait for him to tune his cello, so he doesn't hold us back?”

Eren smirked at him. “Way ahead of you.”

“Alright then. Eren, when you get back, you go over some riffs with us too, and then we'll go through some songs.”

Everyone nodded, Eren went outside, and I slung my guitar over my shoulder.

 

“I guess you were right.”

Eren and I leaned against his motorcycle after practice, just enjoying each other's company before he left. Prior to that statement, we had spent most of the time in comfortable silence, sipping hot tea from styrofoam cups. The tea was enough to warm my hands on the chilly November day.

I turned to him, curious. “Huh?”

“About Jean. You two looked like you were getting on pretty well.”

“Yeah… he really has changed. I always think people can change if they want to.”

He stared sadly into his tea. “Too bad most don't. Or they change all the wrong things.”

“What do you mean?”

“People who throw away all the things they like, or that they claimed to like, just to fit in with the crowd, and then they try to force their will on you.” He glared into the cup. “I hate people like that. If you can throw away everything you loved just like that, you never loved it at all.”

I took another sip of my tea. “I think so too. I’d never give up on anything that was important to me.”

“Like a secret rock band your father has forbidden you to be in?” He smiled wryly.

I laughed. “Yeah, like that.”

“What was your end goal anyway? Why'd you hide it for so long without doing anything with it?”

I averted my eyes to my cup, sighing. “I thought that when I turned eighteen and went to college, I would be free to do what I wanted. I thought I wouldn't have to hide the band anymore, and I could maybe play for my classmates there. That probably would have been a pipe dream, though. He’d have probably found out about the band anyway if he came to visit.”

“Do you regret not waiting?”

For a moment I thought about it, swirling my tea in my cup. “No. If I have to spend my life hiding anyway, it's better to get the whole thing off the ground now.” I smiled lightly. “I actually feel strangely free, though, getting to play shows like this.”

He patted me on the back, smiling. “I'm glad. I like playing with you.”

“With me?”

“Yeah. I've been having a great time with this band. Best I’ve had in a long time. And I’ve had a lot of fun with you.”

“Fun? With me?”

“You're talking like you’ve forgotten how to use English,” Eren chuckled. “Yes. Fun. With you. I like talking to you, and playing music with you.”

I fought to suppress my blush. It wasn't often that anyone said things like that to me, other than Mikasa. “I like playing with you, too.”

His grin broadened then, his eyes shining. In that moment, it struck me just how beautiful they were. It was like seeing emeralds dotting a canvas of burnt umber. Just to look at them was overwhelming.

I turned away from him, definitely unable to hide my blush, and drank down more of my tea in a weak attempt to hide it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thought I was kidding when I said "slow build," didn't you? :-]
> 
> After last chapter, I needed to write Jean and Armin getting along and making up properly. I couldn't bear to let that go.
> 
> I think I'm actually comfortable with the trajectory of this story now. Before I was worried that it didn't make sense/it was too slow/I was meandering/etc., but I'm starting to get more comfortable now.
> 
> You're all either sick of hearing this or you bask in it every time, but either way: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the comments and kudos and general love for this story. They keep me writing even when I've got background stuff going on and add potency to the punch in the face I give myself if I even consider considering abandoning this fic. XD
> 
> Title is a lyric from Pulse by Icon For Hire. (Did I tell you I love Icon For Hire? Because I really do.)


	24. You've Found Your Place In The World Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have only one thing to say in this box: this chapter was RIDICULOUSLY hard to write.

I awoke in the middle of the night, crying silently.

This was not an unusual thing for me by any means. It was an all-too common ritual, frequently happening whenever I was forced to try to sleep alone.

This time, however, it wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't that I woke up with a negative thought already in my mind. It wasn't even that I dozed off for a few seconds and was still crying from having started before.

I actually had absolutely no clue why I was crying. Especially since I was still wearing Eren's sweater. I had fallen asleep to a My Chemical Romance album, the aggressive music and the faint scent of sweet basil and brake fluid having lulled me into a contented sleep.

And yet, at one o’clock in the morning, there I lay, trying to will away the sudden outpouring of tears.

Nerves, maybe? I did have to play a show tomorrow night. I still wasn't quite “over” my performance anxiety. Things could still easily go wrong, after all.

No… that didn't feel quite right. This wasn't anxiety. Anxiety didn't _hurt_ like this.

It felt as if my heart had shattered into pieces. I couldn't understand; nothing had happened to warrant this feeling…

No matter how I tried, I couldn't come up with a single reason why I could be crying.

Eren's face floated into my imagination. Could it have something to do with him, maybe? But what? Eren hadn't done anything wrong.

So why does it hurt to think about him?

There was nothing else for it. The only thing I could do was to surrender and allow the tears to fall until I went back to sleep.

 

I still didn't quite feel completely at ease by the time Keith drove us to the venue on Saturday. It had merely faded into a deep sense of melancholy. I did my best to hide this as we climbed out of the car.

Before we entered, Eren took me aside. “Before we go in, listen… tonight, we're going to be playing with some smaller bands, like us. Don't expect a big crowd like at the Tavern; we’re still pretty fresh in comparison, so we're not going to draw many people at first.”

“So it’ll be like some of those times at Sasha's,” I reasoned.

Eren laughed lightly. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that. Okay, so you’re good to go, then.”

“How many do you think there'll be, exactly?”

“I can't give an exact number, but I figure ten would be a miracle.”

“That's strange, coming from you.” Jean appeared behind us, smirking at Eren. “Lost your faith in us already?”

“I'm trying to be realistic,” Eren shot back. “I’ve been to enough shows to know how this works.”

“Eren Yeager being realistic? I’d better take a picture of this moment so I know I didn't dream it. Maybe I should write it down.” He said this all in a voice of mock surprise.

“Go to hell, Kirshtein.”

“No way, then I’d have to spend eternity with you.”

Eren merely flipped him off before starting for the door. I couldn't help but laugh at the whole exchange.

“You know, Jean… if I didn't know any better, I’d say you two were starting to get along a little,” I teased.

This earned me a look of pure horror. “Don't even joke about that.”

 

Eren had been right.

Upon entering the venue, I counted the number of people in the audience. Not counting Keith, who had bought a ticket to cheer on his nephew, or the other bands, who we’d met briefly earlier, there were about eight other people in the audience. I could even see their faces individually: out of the crowd, I recognized Eren's friends Ymir and Krista, and… my brain short-circuited, and I was hit with a bout of cardiac arrest, because _Bolt Hoover_ had come to see us tonight. I almost didn't make it backstage, as my legs had suddenly decided to surrender to paralysis at the sight of him.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of me, smiled, and gave me a friendly wave and a thumbs up. Shakily, I waved back, and forced myself to move when he turned away, hoping that my wobbly legs weren't making me look drunk.

We spent the time before our set tuning our instruments, as usual. That melancholy feeling still lingered in my stomach, and I tried to suppress it, to no avail. About ten minutes before we were to start, Mikasa and Jean began to set up Mikasa's kit on the stage, leaving Eren and I alone.

“Eren,” I started, mostly just to distract myself, “Bolt is in the audience.”

“Yes, he is,” Eren chuckled, amused. “I invited him. He was stoked to come.”

“How come you didn't tell me?”

He shrugged. “I didn't think it was that important.”

My envy for Eren threatened to drag me into a back alley and garrott me around that point, because even the idea that _anyone_ would consider Bolt Hoover’s presence to not be “that important” was completely alien to me, and only proved how close they must have been. 

“How did you meet him?”

“At a show back when I was in high school. Coarse Stitches was still a much smaller band back then, so they were opening for another band. I liked their sound, so I chatted with them after their set. I ended up really hitting it off with Bolt, so we ended up having a smoke and shooting the breeze after the rest of the show was over.”

“You smoked in high school?”

“Dude, I’m a rocker and school was stressing me out,” he laughed. “It's not that easy to avoid, especially when you're a teenager and always around people who do it. Anyway, after the show, I found out he went to my school, ‘cause he ended up transferring to my class. We ended up hanging out a few times, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“That must have been awesome.”

“It was.” He nodded, smiling. “How’d you meet Mikasa?”

“We… well, she… we kinda ran into each other when she…” I cleared my throat. “She kind of… rescued me,” I finished lamely.

“Really? How so?”

“Well, this one time… you remember you met Tobias, right?”

“Oh, the little twerp that was bothering you at the dance?” He looked irritated at the mere memory. “Yeah, I remember him.”

“Well, this one time, in middle school, he and his friends grabbed me in the hallway and dangled me out of one of the windows by my ankles.”

This made Eren angrier. “The hell kind of sociopath do you go to school with?”

I shrugged. “They think it's funny when I scream because my voice is high-pitched. I tried keeping my mouth shut so that maybe they’d leave me alone, but that just made them shake me until I did.”

Eren opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, shut it, and then ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What else happened?” he asked, a growl in his voice.

“Well, I heard a girl’s voice telling them to leave me alone. Tobias went over to her and asked her what she was going to do about it. Next thing, I heard a bunch of thuds and then his friends pulled me back into the building, dumped me on the floor, and then they all ran.

“I looked up, and Mikasa was kneeling down to me and offering her hand. She helped me up and then walked me to class. She did that every day, and eventually we ended up talking properly. I asked her why she rescued me-- most people just kinda watch and laugh, and Mikasa's pretty, so she ought to be really popular-- and she just looked at me kinda funny and said ‘it doesn't matter.’”

“Still as vague as ever, huh?”

“Yeah. It's strange: sometimes she's blunt, but then there are times where it's like she's hiding something.”

“Yeah, that's Mikasa, all right,” he said, nodding in agreement.

Our conversation was interrupted by Mikasa herself poking her head through the backstage door. (Well, it wasn't a “door” so much as a large swinging board, but the purpose was the same.) “We’ve got five minutes. Come do your sound check.”

We both nodded in affirmation and rose, and Mikasa returned to the stage.

“Alright,” Eren said, patting my back, “let's kick some ass out there.”

 

Fortunately, I had been right: being on stage had assuaged the sadness that haunted me for no discernible reason. My aggressive movements, shouting into the microphone, gave me no room to think about the unwarranted feeling.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. Not even five minutes after we walked offstage and joined the group in the audience, that melancholy sunk its way back into my stomach while I waited for the next band to take the stage. I couldn't understand: what was this feeling about? I just played a great show, a few people bought our CD, the crowd had a great time… why couldn't I shake this feeling?

_Because you're a failure at everything, that's why. No wonder your father hates you. It's a miracle Mikasa even puts up with you._

I didn't even have it in me to try and argue. It wasn't like I didn't agree. I was too weak and skinny to take care of my own bullying problem, I struggled to keep my grades up, I was timid, short, sloppy, a terrible musician, nerdy, unattractive… I couldn't understand exactly what sane person would have me in their life.

“Something the matter?”

My stomach clenched, and I whipped around. Bolt stood before me, his brows turned down in concern.

“Uh… no, I… I'm fine. Fine.” My voice came out breathy and awed, and I knew right then that I needed to squash this starstruck attitude if I was ever going to have a proper conversation with this man.

“Are you sure? You seemed upset…”

I rubbed the stars out of my eyes and nodded. “Yeah, it's okay. I'm okay. I was just… thinking.”

He cast me a small smile in return. “You shouldn't worry too much. People in this scene are usually pretty chill. Around here, the old adage is actually mostly true: just be yourself and you'll fit in just fine.”

I looked down to the floor. “Th-that's not…”

He laid a large hand on my shoulder, giving it a few pats. “Every time Eren says he's ‘thinking,’ he’s dwelling on how out-of-place and awkward he thinks he is and the terrible person he’s under the impression is who he is. You remind me a little of him when I first got to know him.”

I shook my head. “He's better than me.” _Too good to be around someone like me…._

“He said that about everyone when we first became friends, too.” His voice carried an exasperated amusement. “Honestly, both you guys need a reality check.”

His words finally caught up with me, and I turned to him, disbelieving. “How could Eren possibly…!? He's so….”

Bolt nodded. “He's been through a lot. Life hasn't exactly been easy on him. He just tends to _act_ like nothing's wrong, kind of try to bury it, but he's actually got a lot on his mind. I think his sister’s the only one who actually knows everything.”

“But… but he seems so… charismatic, and confident, and…”

“There's the key word: seems. He's not exactly a ‘wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve’ kind of guy. He’ll tell you some things about himself, but if you want to know how he _feels,_ his real motives, you have to prove you’re someone he can trust. Or get him really drunk,” he said, ending with an ashamed smile, running a hand through his short, dreadlocked hair.

I snorted out a laugh. “I don't exactly have an abundance of alcohol for that plan.” I had actually tried alcohol in the past: it tasted awful to me, too bitter, and I tried forcing it down my throat for only a few sips before pouring it down the nearest drain.

Bolt smiled knowingly. “I kinda felt like you might be edge.”

I heard the next band-- I think they were called Donner Party-- doing their soundcheck, and Bolt ended our conversation with a finger over his lips and a mouthed they're awesome. I watched them when he left, waiting for them to tell the sound engineer they were ready.

I was distracted from my thoughts and feelings when the band began to play. I allowed myself to become lost in the music, to paint over the heaviness I was saddled with. At some point, someone had started up a mosh pit, and I backed away a little, bumping into Jean. The two of us met each other's eyes, smiled sheepishly, and shrugged.

During the band's final song, Eren said something to Ymir, Mikasa, and another man, a big guy with a shaved head. Mikasa nodded once, and Ymir and the large man passed the message on to Krista and a girl with a scarf on her head.

A hand clapped my shoulder; I jumped and whipped around, to see Eren standing in between me and Jean.

“Hands and shoulders only. No elbows. Push hard,” he said cryptically.

“What are you on about, Yeager?”

I already had a feeling what Eren was on about, but before I could say anything, my fears were confirmed by the singer. “Alright guys, let's see one last circle pit for the road! Thank you!”

“Eren…!” I barely got out, before I was shoved into the moving circle, along with Jean, Eren diving into the fray after us.

It wasn't long before the pushing started, and Ymir pushed me into the large man, who pushed me into yet another person. When that happened, I remembered Eren's words, and shoved them away as hard as I could. The person, a guy with a side cut and dyed red hair, smiled and pushed me with his shoulder, then ran into the remainder of the group. A small blond person ran up to me, and we collided when I ran into them with my shoulder. We stumbled away from each other, and Krista smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I noted how hard she pushed for her small stature. I ran around until I found Mikasa, who appeared to have initiated a two-on-one mosh with a couple of the participants.

Soon, I found myself running with the crowd, shoving into Eren, into Bolt, into Red-Head, into Jean, into Mikasa, into Ymir….

Sooner than I would have liked, the pit dissipated. I turned my attention back to the band, a completely different feeling finally replacing the previous melancholy. Power.

Something about being in that sea of bodies, shoving around, running like a madman, made me feel more powerful than I ever have before. It was an amazing sensation. I was invincible. I could do anything. I felt, too, as though a huge weight had been lifted from me. All my anger, my sadness, seemed to float away like water vapor with the aggressive activity.

When the band was done, I flopped into a nearby cushion, a huge grin I couldn't force down curling my lips. Before long, I was joined by Eren, Jean, Ymir, and Krista.

Eren threw his arm around my shoulders. “Enjoy the pit?”

“Yes!” I said, a bit more emphatically than I wanted, though I couldn't bring myself to care. “It was amazing!”

“It’d’ve been nice if you hadn't just thrown us in without warning like a jackass, though,” Jean added.

“I suppose you would have gone in if I hadn't?”

“I-I might've.” Jean flushed with embarrassment.

Eren leered shrewdly at him. “You were scared, weren't you?”

“I was not! I was just… waiting for the right moment.”

“The right moment to do what? Turn tail and run?”

Before Jean could respond, Ymir slapped Eren hard on the back, laughing. “Come on, Yeags, leave the new blood alone. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere… remember, you were new once too.” She turned her attention to Jean. “You did good for your first time, kid. You too,” she addressed me next.

“Thank you,” Jean and I chimed at the same time. Noticing this, we smiled abashedly at each other.

“You were really killing it out there, once you got into it,” Eren said to me. 

I nodded, enthusiastic. “Who knew I could enjoy something so close to a group melee!”

Eren fell into silent hysterics at that. “In as much as you can call it that, a fight usually is more enjoyable when you get to hit back.”

“Well, in a way, I guess you could call it a ‘simulated fight,’” Ymir said. “It's good for letting out all your pent-up aggression. Which you must have had a lot of to match Krista here.” She jabbed at the blonde with her thumb, eliciting a blush.

“It's not that impressive, Ymir…”

“Are you kidding? Sometimes I think you're gonna turn into some kind of giant monster in there or something.” She wrapped an arm around Krista’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Honest to god, I once saw this girl throw a guy twice her weight out of the pit.”

“I only flipped him a little,” Krista replied, embarrassed. “He was windmilling and it was getting on my nerves.”

“Even so, you gotta admit that was badass.” Ymir laid her head on top of Krista’s. “I was so proud of her,” she said wistfully.

Mikasa appeared then. “I got us some drinks.” She handed Eren a Sprite, me a Gatorade, and Jean a Pepsi, keeping the cream soda for herself.

Eren pouted at the soda. “Thanks, Mikasa.”

Eren's disappointment did not escape her attention. “What's wrong?”

“I kinda wanted a Colt…”

Mikasa frowned at him. “I'm seventeen, Eren. They won't let me in there.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I can get it later.”

“Somebody's trying to corrupt a minor,” Ymir teased him.

“Am not! I didn’t tell her to get it!”

“You tried.”

“I wouldn't make her go in there, I know she’s too young. They’d kick her out if she tried.”

“I don’t know, Eren, you’ve done some messed up things before… I still remember that time you got under-the-table, half-comatose drunk and woke up in an alley with a--”

“Hey! That was _one_ time!”

Ymir laughed, along with Krista and even Jean. And as badly as I felt about doing so, I found myself stifling my own mirth. Mikasa simply raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Okay, you’re telling me that story as soon as possible,” Jean demanded, as soon as he recovered.

“That story is never leaving this theater, just like it was supposed to stay where Ymir found it,” Eren said through his teeth.

“It sounds like you had some lively experiences while you were away,” Mikasa said.

“Oh, he did.” Ymir gave a devilish smile. “You want to hear about the time…?”

As Ymir continued to propose embarrassing stories about Eren (and Eren tried his hardest to shut her up), I couldn’t help but smile fondly. He seemed so close with all of these people, and they knew a lot about him… I found myself hoping I would get to know the side of him that they did.

I hoped even more that I could see the sides of him he showed no one else. I hoped to be able to get to really know him, not just his joy, but his pain too. I wanted to know everything about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secrets everywhere, man. (But don't worry, all will be revealed in time.)
> 
> I'm thinking next chapter should be a little heavier on plot. I want to actually start answering some questions instead of poking them with a stick. 
> 
> This chapter was actually inspired by a show I went to on the 5th of this month. Namely the small crowd and the pit. Hope you enjoyed it in all of its ridiculous length. XD
> 
> Title is a line from Rock Show by Halestorm.


	25. Let's Get These Teen Hearts Beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a bad thing that even if I don't always respond, I often find myself reading and rereading all of your comments and looking at the kudos because I was most definitely *not* expecting this reception and it keeps me writing?
> 
> Well, if it is... too late. The cat's out of the bag. That's a thing you know now.

The day after the show, I got a text from Eren, which I checked at lunch.

_Going out this Saturday. You in?_

I blinked. This was the first time since the week I met him that he'd invited me to go anywhere with him. My thumb hovered over the screen, wondering what to type back. Should I go? Would it be okay?

I fell into my favorite pastime: taking apart and overthinking every last possible nuance of that message. In my world, no one ever invited anyone else to hang out with them without some ulterior motive, unless that person was Mikasa. It took me only one time in middle school covered in raw eggs, hopped up on Red Bull, and forced to crawl out of a dumpster to never trust anyone's intentions to that end.

For some reason, however, something about Eren seemed to almost completely shut off this defense mechanism. That I was even considering the possibility of going with him unsettled my nerves. It was too dangerous to trust him so much. I knew that.

So why did I want to so badly?

My phone vibrating in my hand broke me out of my reverie. I brought my concentration to the source of the intrusion.

_Bring Mikasa too if you want._

It was scary how he almost seemed to read my mind. I wrote back, _sure, tell me where to meet you._

Getting the time he wanted to meet from him (he had decided to meet with me at Mikasa's place), I put my phone in my pocket.

“Who was that?” Mikasa asked, right on time, as I was just about to address her.

“Eren wants me to meet with him on Saturday. He says you can come with us.”

The briefest of small smiles pulled at the corners of her mouth, before she held up a hand in rejection. “No thank you. I think you should go alone.”

“Are you sure? I think he’d like to see you…”

“He sees me all the time. But you and him hardly spend much time together outside of the band.”

“But--”

“Armin.” She stared straight into my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“O… of course I do.”

“Then you don't need me to go with you. You'll be safe.”

I stared down into my tray. Mikasa spoke once more.

“Has Eren hurt you?” It sounded rhetorical.

I shook my head. After a pause, I felt something soft draped over my shoulders. Looking up, I found this to be Mikasa’s scarf. I eyed her quizzically.

“When I met Eren, I was living on the streets. I had run away from the orphanage I was living in. One night, I stumbled on a house with a pie in the windowsill. I hadn't eaten in weeks, so I thought I would grab it and run. But before I could even touch it, this little boy's face appeared in the window.

“I thought I was in trouble, and I wanted to run, but I froze. I couldn't move. He told me not to try and touch the pie, because it was too hot. Then he disappeared, and I thought he was calling the police… but he came back with a sandwich instead.

“I came back every night, and every night he fed me something. After about a month, his father found out and he and his wife decided to take me in.” She smiled and gently tugged both sides of the scarf. “They adopted me a couple of days before Christmas. Eren gave me this scarf to welcome me to his family, because he didn't have any money for a present that year... and he said he thought I looked cold.”

Briefly, my eyes widened-- she had never really spoken about her past before, so I had never heard this story-- before the corners of my mouth pulled upwards just so. “That was kind of him.”

She nodded. “And if he can treat a homeless orphan like that, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll be safe with him.”

I spared her a single nod. “Alright. I’ll go.”

 

When I arrived to meet Eren on Saturday, Mikasa saw the two of us off, with a rather cryptic-sounding entreaty to us to have a good time, as well as a wink.

“She’s not coming with us?” He sounded mildly surprised.

“No. Should I have…?”

“No, it's fine.” His mouth curled upwards just slightly. “I was just surprised is all.” We left the porch and headed for the curb, where Eren's motorcycle was parked; once there, he vaulted into the seat and patted the back. I sat down, wrapped my arms around Eren's waist and _damn it, I wish he didn't smell like that._ That smell of sweet basil and brake fluid enraptured my senses once more. 

Eren kicked the engine to life, and I held on just a little tighter. Soon, we were speeding off to…. actually, I hadn't really asked him where we were going. I knew I had forgotten to do something.

Any idea I had about doing so flew out of my head as we rode. Eren still hadn't bought another helmet, and had once again given me his only one. The chilly wind carried Eren's scent further into my olfactory channels. I found myself lulled into a contented relaxation. My head slowly lowered, resting onto Eren's back, and I couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed. The fabric felt strangely soft against my skin…

“Hey, we're here.” I blinked; did I fall asleep? I couldn't have: I would have fallen off the bike if I had. 

“Something wrong? You’ve been distracted for a while…”

I shook the fog out of my head. “Yeah, I'm fine.” I looked around. “Where are we?”

“In Tribeca.”

I blinked. “How did we end up there?”

He smiled, amused. “You really were spaced out, weren't you?” His expression morphed into solicitude. “I was worried you’d fallen asleep a couple of times, only you were still holding on pretty tight. Are you sure you're okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just a little distracted is all.” I changed the subject. “So where are we going?”

“Right here.” He gestured to his right, and I followed his motions to find myself standing in front of a moderately-sized building, adorned with white marble columns sporting leaf-and-vine designs. A black awning stuck out from the entrance.

“St. Sina Theatre…” I read aloud.

“I noticed you like to read a lot, so I thought maybe you might want to see a play.”

I whipped back around to look in his eyes. The turquoise-green irises were nothing but candid, but as the moments passed, they soon morphed into confusion. “Was I wrong?”

“No, not at all, it's…. you're fine.” It came out a little breathless. I couldn't believe he’d taken the time to make that kind of observation. Not even my own father ever tried to observe anything I might like, or even ask. “Thank you…”

“No problem.” He ruffled my hair. “I’m actually glad you ended up liking the idea, ‘cause I already bought the tickets.” He smiled, somewhere in between sly and abashed, and waved the tickets in his hand.

The play was _A Doll’s House_ by Henrik Ibsen. I had never seen this play, though I had read the script before, and so it was exciting to see the story brought to life on the stage. Eren, for his part, seemed absorbed by the story: he leaned as close to the stage as he could, his arms resting in his lap, his eyes wide and fixed on the stage with rapt attention. I loved seeing him smile like that; I often noticed that, even though his mouth was turned upwards, his eyes seemed to always be heavy with pain. It gave me joy to see Eren actually smiling genuinely. I wished I could somehow make it happen more often…

Damn it.

_Not my heart again…_

 

Eren's mind seemed to suddenly run on a ten-thousand horsepower motor which was working hard to shoot every one of his thoughts out of his mouth. He could not stop talking about the play-- the plot, the characters, the actors, _everything._ This didn't bother me by any means-- in fact, I was enjoying listening to him, and providing input where I could. I noticed Eren didn't really require input, but readily responded to it when given.

“Do you like plays?” I finally asked him.

He nodded. “It's like going to a whole new world every time I go see one. I don't often get the opportunity, though,” he pouted.

“My dad took me to a few plays before. We’ve never gone off Broadway, though.”

“Welcome to a semi-new experience, then.” He smiled gently, jump-starting my heart once again.

“A play, huh? You romantic bastard, you.”

Both of us turned around, to find Ymir and Krista behind us, holding hands.

Eren stared unamused at her. “Aren't you two on a date?”

“Yeah. But we saw you two in front of us, and you looked like you needed company, so I figure why not crash _your_ date for a little bit?”

“We're not on a date, Ymir.”

Ymir and Krista exchanged a glance. “Uh huh, _sure._ Don't worry, your secret is safe with us… we won't tell anybody you’ve got a crush.” Ymir made a cross motion over her heart, and Krista repeated the action.

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I pulled the hood of my coat over my face to try and hide it. Eren quickly changed the subject. “Was there something you wanted to do, since you're here, or are you just trying to make my life a living hell?”

“Oh, we can do that any day,” Ymir waved a hand dismissively. 

“Actually, since we ran into you, we were kind of hoping to get to know Armin a little better. Outside of a rock show this time,” Krista continued.

“You're not going to interrogate him again, are you?” Eren asked, exasperated.

“Listen, Yeags, it's a necessary vetting process. We're just helping you make sure _that_ doesn't happen again.” She gave him a pointed look, and my curiosity perked up. What were they talking about?

Eren rolled his eyes. “You guys are as bad as Mikasa.” His brow furrowed then. “Anyway, I already learned my lesson back then. No matter what, whether anyone's around or not, I wouldn't let that happen ever again.” If looks could ignite fires, Eren's would have burnt the sun to a crispy sphere.

Ymir reached out and patted his back. “I know. But it's always good to get a second opinion.”

Krista nodded. “Or a third.” She took a few steps, closing the distance between herself and me, and put her hands on my shoulders. “I don't think he needs to be examined, though. He checks out with me. Ymir?”

“I say he passes.” She turned to me as well. “That said, I figure we deserve to get to know the guy our Eren won't shut up about.”

It was decided from there. Ymir and Krista refused to take “no” for an answer. So the four of us ended up wandering around the area, exploring the shops, eating, and chatting. Well, the three of them were chatting: I mostly just listened.

We soon found a secluded spot and stood there, leaning against walls and sharing pastries.

“I can't believe you actually got Eren to walk into a Starbuck’s,” Krista addressed me, handing me a soft cookie.

“Yeah, notice I still didn't order any of their crappy drinks,” Eren said in response. “I’ll get food from there, but their coffee is just awful. All their hot drinks are awful.”

“I don't think they're that bad,” I said.

Eren stared at me like I’d grown horns. “And I thought you had good taste. Anyone in their right mind knows there's only one thing you do with Starbuck's.” He mimed pouring liquid out of a cup and into the nearby sewage drain.

Krista patted my back. “Don't be sad. Ymir feels the same way. I just revel in my good taste.” She winked.

“And we revel in our sanity,” Ymir shot back, an arm around Eren's shoulders.

“People with actual taste buds unite,” Eren said, grinning.

I believe that's our line,” Krista said, a teasing smile on her lips.

The next words I heard, I knew would ruin the whole day.

“Check this out-- a salt-and-pepper brigade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Ymir as a troll. All of her scenes are so much fun.
> 
> I actually meant for this chapter to go a totally different way. But these characters don't listen to me. Nobody listens to me. T_T But at least I actually got to tell Mikasa's backstory. ^_^
> 
> Title is from Panic! At The Disco's Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.


	26. A Jock Still Lives Inside Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I finally got this chapter to work and am able to update! ^O^ This one gave me so much hell, you don't even know.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

All four of us turned to the source of the voice. A group of five men stood by the alley entrance, talking amongst themselves. From the way they were dressed, they might have been punk rockers. They appeared to be attempting to whisper-- the key word being “attempting,” as I could hear everything they were saying.

“Strange crowd, ain't it? Usually there's only one token black, but this crowd’s got two of ‘em."

“So what do you think? Maybe those two are slumming?”

“Nah, the one looks like a fag.”

“So maybe he's slumming with the dude!” They all laughed at the statement.

“So would that make the cute blonde a dyke?”

“Ugh, I hope not… that would be such a waste.”

“Yeah, ‘specially if she's with the black chick… ain't a black chick in the world that's good for more than one thing.”

“Hey.” Eren pushed off of the wall he’d been leaning on and approached the group, his fists balled. “You want to take your garbage elsewhere?”

They stared at him skeptically. A man with spiky blond hair spoke. “And who do you think you are? Do you people always make it a habit to butt in on other people's conversations?”

“Yeah, it's real easy to ignore when someone's insulting you and your friends right in front of you.”

“First of all, you shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Second, you're just mad because I didn't say anything that wasn't true.”

“I don't know where you got your definition of ‘truth,’ but it's pretty loose.”

“What, you think these two are actually hanging out with you monkeys _willingly?_ ” He gestured to me and Krista.

“Just because you're ignorant doesn't mean everybody is,” Krista spoke up.

“Hey, little girl, you don't have to be politically correct in front of your pets anymore. We’ll protect you.”

A man with shaggy brown hair threw his arm around Krista. “Hey, you're actually pretty cute. How about you take a little walk with me and we can-- _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_ ”

Krista had grabbed the man’s middle finger and bent it backwards. “No thanks. I’m spoken for.” She shoved him back into his group of friends.

“Hey! There was no need for that!” Spike-Hair yelled at her.

“There was no need to touch my _girlfriend_ without her permission. You deserved everything you got.” Ymir stepped up this time.

“Gross… she _is_ a dyke.”

“Ha, all she needs is a real man to make her see the light.” Another man, this one with a crew cut, began to step towards them. Eren dived in front of them.

“Touch either of them, and I will rearrange your face.”

Crew-Cut cocked his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “Think it's time to teach these assholes a lesson?”

Spike-Hair punched his palm. “I think it's long overdue for these people.”

“We especially need to teach these two darkies to know their place.”

They started to advance. I dived in front of the three.

“L-leave us alone!”

I wasn't exactly fearless when I did this. In fact, I was terrified. My hands and knees shook as I stood there, my arms extended.

But I was sick of hearing the men speak that way. Tired of letting them insult and belittle my friends. Most of all, I was tired of just standing there and watching it happen. And so, even though every part of my body was screeching at me to leave, to run and get out of there, I stood my ground, my face twisted into the nastiest scowl I could muster.

“Tch, who’s this nancy?”

“I-I’m their _friend._ ”

“Well, you should have stayed out of this, _friend._ We might have left you alone.”

“I don't care. I… I think you're being ignorant, too.” They narrowed their eyes at me. I swallowed. “Y-you guys are punk rockers, aren't you? Punk is supposed to be about accepting people for who they are. W-we all got into this because we felt different from everybody else. So… why would you want make someone else feel like they're less than human just because of their skin color?”

A chorus of laughter came from the group. “Seriously?! This little nerdy queer is trying to tell _us_ what punk is?”

“Look at him; he’s shaking. He probably can't even fight.” Presumably to test this theory, Crew-Cut balled up his fist and backhanded me, causing me to crash to the ground.

Eren dived at the other man and drove his fist into his nose. Ymir and Krista joined in as the other four men tried to dogpile Eren, Ymir with an elbow to one of their faces, Krista with a kick to another one's stomach. Fists swung and bodies flew as the eight combatants tried to dominate the fight. 

Eren swung hard at his opponents, his eyes burning with rage; Ymir swiftly dodged and weaved around, striking fast; Krista, though her fists and feet moved as well, preferred to throw her opponents, letting Eren or Ymir do the rest with them.

Still dizzy from being hit, I shakily rose, holding onto the wall for support. I tried my hardest to stay upright, thinking of something I could do to help…

I heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance, growing steadily closer to the alley. Perfect timing. I shouted, loud as I could, “I called the police!”

The fight skidded to a halt, as the sirens grew closer. “Th-they ain't gonna do nothing,” Crew-Cut stammered.

“They're on our side,” Spike-Hair said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself. “Y-you know how many of these people they've gunned down for us?”

I felt a smile curl my lips, breaking apart into a broad grin. “You don't sound too sure. They're almost here, you could wait and find out.”

Apparently they decided not to wait and find out. There was a moment’s pause, four of the men looked at each other (as one of them had fallen unconscious), and then they immediately turned around and sped off.

“Damn! Let's get out of here!”

“But what about Marley?”

“He’s knocked out, leave him!”

When they were gone, Ymir nodded approvingly at me. “That was some quick thinking, kid.”

I ran a hand through my hair and averted my eyes. “I just…”

“Here, lemme tell you the same thing I have to keep telling Eren: take the compliment. You’ll feel better.” She walked over to the unconscious man and rolled him over with her foot so that he was face up. “They just totally ditched you. Some friends they are.”

“... don’t… touch me…” This came from the man, who it seemed wasn’t quite knocked out.

Before anyone could say anything else, the sirens finally stopped at the alley’s entrance. Three people got out of the police cruiser: Keith; Hannes, a tall, blond-haired man who was Keith’s partner; and Mikasa.

Eren stared at them, flabbergasted. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We got Armin’s text,” Hannes said. “Are you all okay?”

Eren nodded slowly, then turned to me. “Armin, you…?”

I nodded. Prior to the fight, I had texted both Keith and Hannes that we might be in trouble, and sent our location. “I thought one of them might be on duty right now.”

Keith and Hannes picked up the man on the ground. “Looks like this kid’s about to pass out,” Keith said. “Just what happened here?”

Eren opened his mouth to explain, before the man spoke again, staring straight at Eren.

“The… little nerd… asked if… we were punks ‘too.’ Did he mean… all of you?”

Eren quirked an eyebrow. “And if he did, so what?”

The man laughed weakly, a nasty grin crossing his face. “That was… why you got mad… you… think you’re white. It’s too bad… for you… at the end… of the day… no matter how much… you glom onto us… you’re never… gonna be anything… but a nigger…”

Eren’s muscles began to tighten, and he balled up his fist, his brow furrowed, teeth bared… before he strode straight up to the man and punched him square in the jaw. He might have kept going, had Mikasa not hooked her arms under his and dragged him away.

“Let go, Mikasa!”

“Eren, that’s enough!”

“Did you hear what he just said?!”

“Yes, I did! And if you weren’t injured and he wasn’t nearly knocked out, I’d help you. But all that’s going to happen if you keep hitting him now is that you’ll lose blood!”

Eren still wasn’t totally convinced. It took almost a full minute of Eren struggling before he finally relaxed-- or at least, stopped clawing at the guy-- and Mikasa let him go.

Once Eren was a little calmer, she checked me over as well. “Armin and Eren are both injured,” she said to Keith.

“There's a first aid kit in the car. Get the two of them in there and patch them up,” he replied.

Mikasa shepherded the two of us into the car. I heard Keith say, “Would either of you young ladies care to tell me what happened here?”

“Sure. We were having a good time-- a double date, y’know-- and right as we were really getting in some good fun, this bozo and his friends decided to pick a fight with us just because Eren and I are black.”

“Armin.” Mikasa's soft voice broke through my mind, causing me to snap to her face. When I did, she immediately placed an ice pack to my cheek. I held it there, freeing Mikasa to turn to Eren.

As she was bandaging a long gash across his forehead-- one of the men had decided that a broken glass bottle belonged in the fight-- Mikasa said, “Is what your friend said true? I heard what she told Uncle Keith just now.” The question sounded a little rhetorical. 

Eren cast his eyes to the seat, glaring at it. “Yeah.”

She remained silent, continuing to bandage the wound, until a few moments had passed. “I'm sorry.”

“Tch… it's whatever.”

Mikasa was just finishing Eren's bandages when Keith and Hannes returned to the car, placing the now-handcuffed-and-definitely-unconscious man in the back with us. A large, red-and-purple lump rose on his forehead from where he’d been slammed into a wall.

“We're taking him to the hospital for treatment,” Hannes explained. “He’ll be in our custody, and we’ll take him to the station for questioning once he’s okay.”

“Eren, I would feel better if you stayed with us tonight. I know you would rather have your own space, but I just want to make sure you're safe. Especially with your heavy injuries.”

Eren nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Armin, you should stay, too,” Mikasa said to me.

“I will.” I didn't really want to have to explain this bruise to my father.

“It's settled then.” Keith shut his door, and Hannes turned the key in the ignition.

Before the car could move, Krista’s face appeared in the back door window, smiling apologetically.

“Sorry your day was ruined. We would have liked to talk to you a little more.”

I shook my head. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Hopefully we'll see you again soon. Take care of Eren, okay?” She turned to walk away, but then snapped her fingers and spun back around. “Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you: blond looks better on you.”

She left the car then. Ymir then replaced her briefly.

“Stay safe, Yeags. Don't go blaming yourself for this, okay?”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. She left the car, and Hannes, who presumably had been waiting for this, pulled away from the alley.

 

We took an unusual route back to our neighborhood that night: Hannes drove the car to the hospital and took in the unconscious assailant, and Keith called a taxi from there to drive us back. I was incredibly glad he’d done that, as the cruiser might have raised suspicion with my father if he was home. Maybe that had been what he was thinking.

Eren remained silent the entire time. He wouldn't even look at anyone. He would just stare straight ahead. When I chanced a glance at him, I could see that familiar, dangerous look forming in his eyes: the one that let me know he was falling back into darkness. However, trying to talk to him proved ineffectual: he would only offer one-word answers, or noncommittal grunts.

When we got inside, Eren made a vague statement about wanting to be alone, and went upstairs. I watched him leave, wondering if I should follow him, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey, can I come in?” Jean's voice sounded when Keith opened the door.

“Of course.” Keith stepped out of the doorway to allow Jean in, and he made a beeline for us.

“What happened out there? I saw you guys across the street: Eren looked like a mummy, and Armin's got this ice pack over his face.”

“Um… there-there was… I went out with Eren, and…” I wasn't sure I could go through with the story.

“Eren got into a fight,” Mikasa took over for me. He was with his friends-- those two girls, Ymir and Krista-- and apparently, this group of guys decided to pick a fight with them.”

“Over what?”

“His color.”

“Oh.” Jean rolled his eyes. “Those kind of assholes.” He turned to me. “How’d this happen?” He gestured to the ice pack, which I still held over the bruise.

“Um… I… I tried to make them go away, and… one of them hit me.”

“Make them go away? How?”

“I got in front of them, and I told them to leave us alone.”

Jean's eyes widened briefly, before he began chuckling. “You're pretty bold, you know that?”

I cast my eyes to the floor shyly. “T-thank you…”

“How's Eren? I mean, other than the bandages.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Keith said, “Mikasa, did you move my gun?”

“No. I thought you already put it away.”

“I haven't yet. It was on the desk here. I thought maybe you were trying to hide it from Eren or something.”

My eyes widened. My heart nearly stopped. Oh no. What if…?

I whipped my head around to look at Mikasa. The expression on her face told me instantly that we were on the same page.

“Eren!”

The two of us shot up without another word, bolting up the stairs and toward the guest room. As I ran, I prayed that I was wrong. 

The door to the guest room was slightly ajar. I got there first, shoving the door open so hard it banged against the wall.

Eren, seated on the bed, whipped his head up in shock. His eyes were glazed over with tears, and he clutched Keith’s gun in his hands, the barrel stuck in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another group of people who are surprisingly difficult to write: racists.
> 
> The fight scene was more difficult too. Group melees are not easy. 
> 
> Title is from the Dead Kennedys' Nazi Punks Fuck Off. (Yep, I finally got to drop some classic punk!)


	27. Fallen Angels (It Doesn't Hurt Enough Yet, Does It?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I left a comment on the last chapter, but just in case no one got it: it had been pointed out to me that I had left a massive plot hole in the last chapter, so I added a few new lines which hopefully fixed it. The new line starts around the time Armin shouts that he's called the police, if you want to re-read the chapter. Now that chapter and this one should gel together pretty well.
> 
> That said, I'll shut up and let you read. XD

Eren slowly pulled the gun out of his mouth and spoke. “What are you two doing here?”

“Eren… why…?”

Eren looked down to the floor. “I’m leaving.”

“No…” Mikasa murmured.

Eren nodded his head. “Leave me alone. Please.”

“No.” This time it was more firm. “We're not leaving you by yourself.”

“Eren… what's wrong?” I asked, shakily. “Please. Tell me.”

He looked up at me briefly, his expression blank, before casting his eyes back to the floor. “Like you’d understand.” He sounded bitter.

“At least I can listen, even if I don't. Eren, please…”

“You can't help me,” he snapped. “Just get out, both of you.”

“Eren.” Mikasa stepped closer to him. “Give me that gun.”

Eren glowered at her. “No.”

In response, Mikasa strode the rest of the way to Eren and snatched the gun from his hands.

“Give that back, Mikasa.” It came out a deadly growl.

“No.” Finding the safety latch, she switched it on. 

“I said give it!” He jumped out of his seat, diving at Mikasa in an attempt to reclaim the pistol. She held it away from him, using her free hand to shove him back into the bed.

“I want to know what's going on.”

“Why? Even if I told you, you can't do anything about it!”

Mikasa stared straight into his eyes. “Does this have to do with Austin?”

Eren bristled at her words. He averted his eyes. “Of course not. That was years ago.”

“It still hurts, doesn't it.” It wasn't a question.

“I said no.”

“Then what is it? Tell me!”

“I told you, you can't help me!”

“Eren, please… tell us something. Anything…”

“You want to know so badly? Fine!" He jumped back up from the bed, anger radiating from his every pore. “I’m tired of fighting this stupid battle, okay?! All my life I’ve been being told that I'm ‘trying to be white,’ that this ‘isn't for me,’ and I’ve spent all this time trying to prove them wrong, and all it is is a losing battle! Nobody ever sees me for anything other than my race! I try to talk to other black kids and it's always 'why you got a problem with black music? You just want to assimilate to white culture!’ I go to shows and someone always makes some stupid comment-- ‘you're cute for a dark-skinned guy,’ ‘can I touch your hair? It looks so poofy--’ the whole reason I straightened it was because I got tired of that stupid question!” He grabbed a pillow and hurled it across the room, hitting a chest of drawers and causing a few knickknacks to fall over.

“Eren,” Mikasa began, “that's just a few people--”

“And every time one of them speaks, it's just another reminder that I’m an outcast no matter where I go! If I don't check off the right boxes, I'm considered a mistake….” His voice began to falter, and he slumped back onto the bed. “And I’m… I'm starting to think they're right. Everything about me is just wrong. Wrong music taste, wrong interests… my whole existence just seems wrong.” He buried his face in both hands. “I should have never been born.”

Mikasa sat next to him on the bed. “There's nothing wrong with you. You are who you are, and that's okay.”

Eren shook his head. “I can't believe that anymore. I just-- I just want it to end. I'm tired of feeling like this. I can't keep this up anymore.” He turned his head back to Mikasa, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please… just let me go… everyone would be better off without me…”

“Eren, you know that's not true…”

He shook his head. “It is. I'm tired of pretending I can fight this. I can't…”

This was the day I found out that the mixture of logic and emotion is a dangerous cocktail.

You see, I knew that getting under Eren's skin might be a good way to snap him out of his current mood, for he would have somewhere to direct his emotions other than inward.

At the same time, I was angry enough to say those very things. In fact, I was enraged. Livid.

This wasn't the same Eren I had come to know. Eren was strong. Eren was confident. Eren let no one tell him what to do or who to be. He was everything I wasn't. 

There was no way I was letting him stoop to my level.

“So that's it, huh?” I said, softly. “You’ve… given up?”

Eren raised his head to look at me. “Huh?”

“You're going to give up just like that? I thought you said you hated people who threw away what they loved just to fit in?”

“What's that got to do with right now?”

“That's what you're doing, isn't it? You're about to throw away everything you said you loved just because somebody else said ‘you can't.’ I’m disappointed in you, Eren.”

He gave me a scowl that could have burned the house down, and then rose slowly, intimidatingly. “What right do you think you have to judge me? What do you know about what it's like for me?!”

“I do know one thing: I know a weak-willed coward when I see one.”

Eren's muscles tensed, and he balled his fists. His next words came out a savage growl. “You think I'm a coward? A quitter? Was your friend Marco a quitter too?!” he spat.

Mikasa rose sharply and smacked Eren across the face. My answer came at about the same time, tears beginning to fall from my eyes in some mixture of anger and despair.

“ _Yes!_ Yes he was! He gave up on the band, he gave up on me and Mikasa, and he gave up on himself! And now you're about to do the same thing!”

This time I was on the receiving end of Mikasa's open palm. “How could you talk about Marco like that?”

“Because it's true! He walked out on us, Mikasa! And he never even gave me the chance to try and help him. He never even gave himself the chance to try and heal…” I swallowed and darted my eyes to Eren's.

“Eren… you promised me… you promised me you wouldn't die. Don't… don't go back on your word. Please…”

Eren's expression had softened considerably by this point. His eyes, once burning with rage, were now weighted with heavy melancholy. Once again he slumped onto the bed.

“Armin… I…” He cast his eyes to the floor. “I just can't keep fighting anymore…”

“Yes you can.” I walked over to the bed and sat beside him. Gently I pushed his face to the side, so that he looked into my eyes. “Eren… you're one of the strongest people I know. I know you can do this. But you have to let someone be there for you.”

His brow furrowed slightly once more as he met my eyes, and he shook his head. “What, like you? When have you ever been through anything I have?”

“You don't have to be the same as someone else to be there for them.” I met Eren's firm gaze with one of my own. “You just have to care about them.”

His eyes widened just so, before he avoided my gaze. “I'm tired of being alone in all this…”

I reached for his hand, which was resting at his side, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Then don't be.”

I felt Eren clench his fist under my hand. Saw him bite his lower lip. Mikasa took a seat next to Eren.

“Eren. Do you still trust me?”

He snapped his head to her, blinking. “... of course I do.”

“Even though I'm not black?”

“Mikasa, you're my sister…”

“But I'm not black. I'm not white, granted… but I'm not black either.”

“What the hell does that matter?!”

“Exactly.” She gave Eren a pointed look.

“Mikasa…. that's…”

Mikasa shook her head. “It's the same. Armin is your friend. His race shouldn't matter any more than it does with me.”

Eren looked at Mikasa, looked at me, then sighed, casting his eyes to the floor. “I'm… I'm just so confused….”

“People make the world confusing,” I said to him. “But it doesn't have to be.”

Eren remained silent for some time. Glancing sideways at our hands, he shifted his own until he could thread our fingers together.

“Sorry. I just-- I can't figure out who I’m supposed to be.”

I gave his hand a squeeze, a gentle pulse. “You never struck me as the type to worry about that. You seem happier to just be proud of who you are.”

He laughed bitterly. “How am I supposed to do that when I don't know who that is?”

“I think you do. But you’ll lose sight of it if you worry too much about what other people think.”

“What if they're right?”

“What if they're not?”

Eren quirked an eyebrow at me. I began once more, “Eren, you're the only one who gets to decide what you like and how you express yourself. You can't give anyone else that kind of permission… or else…” My sentence trailed off, as I remembered my father… having to hide my dream… all the lying, the pretending…. I looked into Eren's eyes once more. 

“Eren… you're the one who taught me to not give up on myself. You've got to take your own advice now. The world needs you, this band needs you, Mikasa needs you…” I cast my eyes down to our joined hands. “I need you.”

For a moment, silence followed my declaration. Then I heard a sniffling sound. And another one. And a quiet cough. I stole a glance back to Eren: his head was down, tears spilling from his eyes. Mikasa had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to her. I leaned over, resting my forehead on his shoulder. 

 

Mikasa left the room after a few minutes, to return the gun to Keith. Eren and I were left alone in the room. 

I decided to break the silence. “Eren… who's Austin?”

Eren turned to face me, staring blankly. Flushing with embarrassment, I backpedaled. “Sorry… I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah… I think I'll save you that tale. It's a bit of a downer.”

I shrugged. “I don't mind downers.”

He laughed again, more mirthful this time. “Dude, why are you so obsessed with my sob stories?”

“It's you I'm obsessed with.” He blinked, a bit stunned, and in that moment I realized what I said. “That didn't come out right… I just meant, well… I want to know everything about you. Good and bad. You said you wanted someone to get to know the real you… I want to do that, and that means knowing your story. Your whole story.” I gave his hand, still clutched in mine, another gentle pulse. “I want to know everything.”

I could see the hint of a blush stain his cheeks as he glanced at our clasped hands once more. He squeezed mine a little tighter and took a breath.

“When I was sixteen, I got this job at a restaurant. Me and one of my other co-workers started talking… we had a lot in common, and we actually hit it off pretty well. I ended up getting attached to him. Like, _really_ attached to him.”

“Did you ever tell him?”

He shook his head. “I never got the chance. But I'm glad I never did anyway. I would have been even worse off.

“One day, at lunch, he asked to hear what I was listening to. So I gave him one of my earbuds to put in. I remember the song, too… it was that song by The Used… I can't remember the name right now, though, I know it went like…” He hummed the tune, and I recognized it immediately.

“Paralyzed?”

“Yeah, that's the one… anyway, he listens, then in the middle of the song, he starts going off. Goes on about how I'm somehow rejecting my culture and how this music is corrupting me and a bunch of other nonsense. Says he 'used' to be a rocker, too, but then he ‘saw the light’ or whatever. Of course I didn't agree with him, and I told him so.”

“What happened then?”

He glared at the floor. His stare could have burned a hole in it. “He started bullying me. He would come into work, and he’d act like we were great friends and everything, but then he’d make some snide remark about my music, or imply that I didn't know anything about history, or say something about what I was wearing before I got into my uniform… then a minute later he was back to acting like we were best friends again. I should have just cut him off right away, but… I liked him, and he’d been nice to me at first, and I was stupid and vulnerable and… I thought I could make it work.

“The last straw, though, was he…” he swallowed, gulped a deep breath. “He told me that I… I was a disgrace to my parents. That it was a good thing they were dead, because they’d be ashamed of me if they were alive."

_What?!_ “How… how could he…?”

“I don't even know. Not that I bothered finding out.” He grinned, sly and vengeful. “All I remember after that was my fist in his face. Repeatedly.”

I stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully. “Sounds to me like he was asking for it.”

“You're right. He was.” His face fell once more. “It didn't really make me feel much better, though. I just felt… foolish. Like a complete idiot. And at the same time, I felt betrayed. Broken. I figured, hell, maybe something's wrong with me. Maybe he was right, maybe Uncle Keith was right… maybe I’m just defective. So I thought that I may as well just take myself out of everyone's lives. Go away before I screw up the whole rest of the world, and ruin everyone's life with my existence. So a couple of nights later, I ran a warm bath, brought up a box cutter with me, and I…”

I touched one of his bracelets gently. This time they were brown leather, with a stainless steel buckle in the middle. “You did this.”

He nodded.

“What made you change your mind?”

He laughed lightly. “I didn't. Mikasa walked in on me and kicked my ass.” He tilted his head to the ceiling in thought. “No, wait, that's not right… she called an ambulance, bandaged my wrists, then she kicked my ass. I remember now.”

I couldn't help a smile. “Wasn't she, like, twelve?”

“Yes.” His face was completely serious, his expression screaming _I can't believe you just asked me that question._ As soon as he gave me that look, I began to wonder why I asked that question. “Why do you think I don't piss off twelve-year-old Japanese girls?”

“I’ve never seen you interact with a twelve-year-old Japanese girl.”

“Well, if you do, now you’ll know why I don't piss them off.” A gentle, sad smile crossed his face. “I must sound pretty pathetic, huh?”

Actually… no. He didn't. Not to me. Distraught, yes. Broken, definitely. But pathetic? No, not at all.

In fact... in spite of what Eren might have thought, I was sure that we were more alike than different.

“It wasn't your fault, Eren.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn't your fault. You… you were vulnerable, and he took advantage of you. You didn't do anything. And you don't ruin anybody's life.”

Eren blinked. “I know that.”

“I mean it, Eren. You're the only one who's allowed to define you. No one else is. If someone takes issue with how you express yourself, it's their problem, not yours.”

“I… I know… I know.” It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

“Eren. Do you beat yourself up for _everything?_ ”

Eren stiffened slightly, whipping his head around to look at me. His expression put me in mind of a cat startled by a sudden noise.

I reached out to Eren, gently resting a hand on his cheek. “You're a unique human being. You have every right to live your life the way you want to, and to define who you are. The right people love you for you.”

He leaned into my hand, his eyes gently closing. “No one's ever said anything like that to me before.”

My lips curled into a tiny smile. “I don't believe that for a second.”

“It's true. I mean, yeah, my friends have said nice things, and I know they care, but… it never sounded the way it did when you said it.”

“How's that?”

“Like I'm the only other person in the world.”

I averted my eyes to my lap, heat rising to my cheeks. “You are to me,” I murmured, half-hoping he hadn't heard me.

 

I'm not sure when the two of us fell asleep after that.

I'm even less sure how I ended up in Eren's arms.

Yet, that was where I found myself when I woke up. It must have been pretty late, as it was still dark outside. Eren's sleeping face was inches from mine, his face more peaceful than I had ever seen it.

I reached up to brush a tuft of hair from Eren's forehead. He hummed contentedly in his sleep, shifted just so, and murmured something I couldn't hear. I could feel my heart flutter at the act.

~~~

_I sat on the couch in the guest room of Marco's house, starting forlornly at my guitar. His parents didn't invite guests overnight very often, so they usually allowed us to use this room for band practice._

_“Hey.” I turned my head upward: Marco stood over me, his eyes clouded, but concerned. “You look like crap. What's up?”_

_“Um…” Marco had changed greatly since he’d stopped speaking to Jean. I still wasn't quite used to his newfound bluntness._

_He sat down heavily next to me. “Sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk lately. You can still talk to me if something's wrong, though. I'm still your friend, after all.” He flashed me a small smile. I could see a glimpse of his old, kind demeanor behind it._

_I hesitated, before finally turning my eyes back to my guitar. “It's… it's Annie.”_

_“Still upset about her leaving?” There was a note of sympathy in his voice._

_I nodded. “It's just… she just left so abruptly. And the things she said… after all that time… how could she…?” My voice trailed off._

_“I know what you mean. Sometimes people just aren't who you think they are. You could know someone for years, and they’ll still turn their backs on you.” The bitterness in his voice was hard to miss. “Loyalty doesn't exist in anybody. It's a useless thing to hope for.”_

_I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. I couldn't say that he was wrong, necessarily, but… I just wasn't used to hearing Marco, of all people, saying such things._

_“Mikasa actually told me something a couple of days ago. I think she's been reading too many romance novels.”_

_“What was it?”_

_“She said that people over-glorify the first love. She says just because the first love didn't work out, you shouldn't give up. Sometimes it takes a second time, or a third, or even a tenth, to find the one that works with you. But when you do find them, you have to hold on to them with everything you have. And if they're the right one, they'll put just as much effort into making things work.”_

_“That sounds nice.”_

_“Yeah. It's too good to be true, though.” He smiled again, the expression tinged with melancholy. “Well, it might work for you, though. You're a sweet guy. And smart. You've got a lot going for you.”_

_“So do you,” I replied._

_“Nah, not me. But thanks anyway for saying that.”_

_Unbeknownst to me, it would be the last week I would see Marco alive._

~~~

In the present, I lay there still, watching Eren sleep, his breathing soft and even. A compulsion that had been building up inside me finally overflowed: carefully, so as not to wake Eren, I drew closer to him and softly pressed my lips to the side of his mouth.

_Is he… my second love?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: this chapter, as well as the last, are kinda... personal. I worked hard as I could to get it right because of this. But let me tell you, it was *tricky.* Hopefully it works out.
> 
> Next chapter will be a light one... I think we all need the breather. XD
> 
> Title comes from Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides, and Demons by Icon For Hire.


	28. We Are Far From Perfect, But Perfect As We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. FINALLY. I am happy with this chapter. I hope you guys are, too.
> 
> Before I start, I'm just going to thank you all once more because you're all beautiful, beautiful people and I am unworthy of your praise. (But you can totally keep doing it, I love getting your comments. ^o^)
> 
> On with the chapter!

When I opened my eyes, the bed was empty, save for myself.

I shot up into a sitting position, my heart beginning to race. Where could he have gone? Did something happen? Did I do something? Oh god, maybe I was sleepwalking and did something bad to him, and he didn't know I was sleeping and thought I did it on purpose…

I wasn't sure what made me run to the bedroom window and look outside, but I was glad that I did, as my heart rate gradually calmed down when I saw him standing at the back door. Sighing with relief, I spun out of the bed and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I joined Eren at the back door after fixing myself a breakfast sandwich, standing in front of him. “Good morning.”

“Hey.” Short answers again. Just like at that show. I decided not to chance striking up a conversation with him, and instead simply asked, “can I stand with you?”

“Nobody's stopping you.” This time a small smile crossed his face when he spoke.

I leaned against the wall next to him-- to his left, as this was downwind from him, and he was again smoking-- and started to eat my sandwich.

“I didn't expect you to be up,” I started, timidly. I actually hadn't-- it was quite early in the morning, so early that it was still dark.

“Yeah, me either,” he laughed. “I wanted to sleep in, but Ymir called me and woke me up.”  
“Really? I didn't hear anything.”

“I know, you were out like a light!” He chortled. “My phone was loud as hell, but you just stayed knocked out.”

I blushed. “It was because someone was with me. What did you guys talk about?”

Eren looked up to the sky, that thoughtful look crossing his face. “Well, she told me she was just checking up on me, see if I was alright. We shot the breeze for a bit… I told her about what happened last night and how I was feeling… she told me I was an idiot, that you and Mikasa should have kicked my ass, and that the next time I pull that stunt instead of talking to someone, she and Krista are gonna do it… and then we talked about you a little bit.”

_That's a little extreme, but…_ “... at least she cares?”

A small smile. “She does. I can attest to that.” He took a drag of his cigarette.

“I’d offer you a smoke, but I gather you don't like cigarettes much.”

“No. They smell awful. I’ve never really been tempted to taste one.”

“Mmm. They're something you have to get used to.” Another drag.

“If it's not too personal or anything… what made you start that?”

“It keeps me off drugs.” I blinked, confused, and Eren continued. “They keep me even, you know? When I'm feeling like crap, these relax me, stop me from doing anything stupid. Probably should have had one last night.”

“Eren… those are really unhealthy…”

“I know. Tried stopping a couple of times, because of Mikasa-- she said the same thing, she'd been watching those gross commercials-- but it's a hard habit to kick.” Before I could comment on this, he spoke again.

“Actually… I think I was being a bit… dramatic last night? I--”

I shook my head. “It's okay. Besides, you already apologized.”

“I still feel kinda bad, though. I'm sorry about what I said about your friend. I didn't mean to weaponize him like that…”

“It's fine. Really. I know you didn't mean it.” 

He sighed. “I just-- I get so confused. I don't really have a lot of people I can trust. I mean, there's Mikasa, of course, and Ymir and Bolt and Krista… but everyone else is just so… and then I think, maybe it's me. Maybe it's my fault I can't get along with anyone...maybe I really should change, ‘open my eyes,’ like Uncle Keith used to tell me… but… I can't.” He rubbed his face with his palms. “I just can't.”

I stared down at my tennis shoes. “Betrayal is a hard thing to cope with. After a while, you start to wonder if everything you've ever believed was a lie. You start to wonder if maybe… maybe you're just a defective person, because people wouldn't treat you badly if you weren't. But… it's not true. None of it is. It can't be true, for anyone to treat someone like you that way.”

“Someone like me?” He repeated, suspicious.

“Yeah… Eren, you're…” _Kind. Intelligent. Strong. Perfect. Beautiful._ “You're the most unique, caring person I have ever met. You're talented and smart and generous and… anybody who could treat you badly is wrong. They're nothing but complete jerks-- no-- _assholes!”_ Though my voice had grown louder and more passionate with every word, still I had to force out the last word.

There was a short pause before I heard a small snort. I turned to find Eren, his fist over his mouth, trying to stifle laughter.

“Sorry,” he managed. “Just, the way you said that… it was like that word was life or death for you to say.”

“Well…” I averted my eyes, feeling myself blush. “It's that, my dad doesn't normally let me swear, so I, I’ve never really done it before…”

“Hey, I get it. You don't have to apologize.” It came out with a chortle. “Seriously though… that was nice of you to say.”

I looked back to him. “I meant every word.” I took a deep breath before speaking again. “The truth is, though, there isn't a single thing in this world that doesn't come without a price. Not even freedom. Everyone tries to make you pay for being free, in whatever way they think it takes. But you have to be the one to decide if it's worth the price.”

A small smile crossed his face. “Fortunately for me, it is worth it.”

I smiled back. “I think so too.”

He paused for just a few moments before throwing his cigarette on the pavement, snuffing it out with his shoe, and pulling me into a hug. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me.” He looked to the horizon, a fond look on his face. “Ymir told me the same kind of thing, actually, when she called. But I don't mind hearing it again.”

I looked back down at my feet, and silence overtook the two of us. I couldn't help but smile. Even if it was just a little, I was glad that I could make him feel better.

Maybe there was a way for even me to take his pain away.

Just as I had sunken into my own thoughts, Eren nudged me with his elbow. “Hey, have you ever watched the sunrise? I think it’ll start in maybe an hour or two.”

I shook my head. Though I had been up this early before, I had never taken the time to look at the sky.

“Here, stay and watch. It's one of the few beautiful things about the world.” His gaze turned passionate, that wide-eyed, genuine smile I loved seeing on him. “I want to travel so badly. I want to see the sunrise from every corner of the world… from the mountains, behind cherry blossoms, in the deserts, just… everywhere.” He laughed abashedly. “Sorry. I must be boring you…”

“No, not at all. I think it would be nice, too. To travel. To learn about other places. Not just from a book, to see it for myself.” It was a Herculean act to share this passion with him. Save for Mikasa, conversations in which I attempted to share this never ended well.

“You sound like you want to see the world too.”

I nodded. “As much as I can. Everything.”

“Maybe we will. Both of us. Someday.”

We fell into silence after that. It was comfortable, simply enjoying each other's company as we waited for the sun to rise.

When it happened, it was just as beautiful as Eren had described it.

At first, the sun peeked out shyly from the horizon, a tiny strip of orange amongst the navy blue sky.

Soon, it peeked further and further, brightening the sky more and more, until it had exploded into a canvas of bright reds, oranges, purples, and even a few scattered shades of blue. On the ground, everything was covered in an orange glow, painting every surface.

I glanced towards Eren. That orange glow danced on his dark brown skin, lending it a golden tint. The same glow played on his hair, bringing out in the raven locks flecks of brown and even blond, as well as his eyes, the irises sparkling emeralds.

Eren turned and, seeing me looking, shot me a broad, passionate grin. “What’d I tell you? It's beautiful, right?”

“You are.” My voice came out starstruck, and I immediately realized my mistake, scrambling to correct myself. “I mean, um… I mean, it is. Yeah. The sunrise. Wonderful.”

Eren chortled. “Just now,” he started, a teasing tone to his voice, “did you say _I_ was beautiful?”

“I… well… that is…” There's an idea that everyone has twenty seconds of courage in them for everything they try, and that once you've used it on something, it gives you momentum to keep going. So far I’ve used it to form my band, every day I’ve stepped on stage, every time I’ve written and uploaded a new song…

It looked like it was time to use it again.

“You're a work of art.”

Eren blinked at that, apparently not expecting it. Then it was his turn to blush. “You… you really think that?”

“I do. I mean it.”

“But I… you’ve seen me, Armin. I'm messed up. Like, _really_ messed up. I… I'm not right in the head.”

I shrugged. “Neither am I. There's nobody who's perfect, Eren. But… you're perfect to me. Everything about you.”

“But…”

“Eren. I don't care about what anybody else has ever said about you, who you are is more important than your skin color or your interests or whatever. That's what I like about you, your whole, full self. I’m friends with Eren Yeager, not a cellist or a punk or a black kid.”

It was like a complete role reversal in those moments-- me comforting Eren confidently, and Eren blushing and looking away. 

“Listen. If…” I paused, took a breath, and continued. “If you want me to… if you trust me… I want to help you. I don't know what I can do, but… anything you need from me, I’ll try my level best to get it.” 

“Don't say that. I… I can't believe that. I can't…”

I rested a hand on his arm, looking straight into his eyes. “I know. All I want is a chance. Just give me that much. You helped me. Let me return the favor.”

Eren's eyes widened. He glanced down at my hand, and wrapped his own around it, bringing it to his face. “Armin, you… I…” He growled, frustrated, and ran his free hand through his hair. “Damn it. I… I don't know what to say…”

I gave his hand a gentle pulse. “Then don't say anything.”

A few moments silence. I glanced down at our intertwined hands, dark against pale.

A finger hooked underneath my chin, pushing it upwards just so. I found myself looking into Eren's face once more. His green eyes started out meeting my blue ones, before moving down to my lips. Almost instinctively, I closed my eyes and leaned closer to him, waiting.

His lips touched mine, soft and gentle. When he pulled away, too quickly I felt, I leaned in once more, my eyes pleading.

A knowing smile crossed Eren's face before he came back to me. His kiss was closed-mouthed, but he leaned hard into me, at once innocent and passionate. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer, and his hands pushed against my back, one on my lower back, the other on my shoulder blades.

We parted, still embracing. We fell quiet as we stood there, nose-to-nose, studying each other's eyes.

“You're a pretty good kisser for a beginner.”

My shoulders shook as I broke into a fit of giggles. “I look like a beginner to you?”

“You're not?”

“Not exactly… I dated once before. Last year.”

“Tell me more?”

“Nah… it's kind of a long story.”

He nodded. “I know a little something about long stories.” A few more moments of silence.

“Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you, maybe… want to go out sometime? On a date? Not a friend-date, but a date-date?”

Suddenly remembering something, I smirked at him. “Is that what you and Ymir were talking about?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, kinda.”

I rubbed my nose against his. “I’d love to go out with you. On a date-date.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with a smile. However, his eyes soon began to widen, like he’d come to a sudden realization.

“Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we did this backwards.”

I gazed to the sky thoughtfully. “Yeah, we kinda did.”

 

Practice was at Jean's house the next day, a Monday. Eren and I arrived early, and we sat there in Jean's den, tuning our instruments.

By the time we were done, Jean and Mikasa still hadn't arrived yet. In the meantime, I began to play a tune on my guitar.

Eren stared skeptically at me. “Listen, I like Trans-Siberian Orchestra as much as they next guy, but I think it's a little too early for Sarajevo 12/21.”

I shot him a devious grin. “It's after Thanksgiving, they usually start Christmas music by this time. If not earlier.”

“Yeah, but I don't want to hear that crap until the end of December. The reason I turn off stations playing that mess is because they're doing it too damn early.”

“I don't know, Eren, I don't think it's ever too early for a little Christmas cheer.”

“Yeah, and you're also going to run to Starbuck's for one of those disgusting themed drinks that they put the peppermint on to try to hide the arsenic flavor. I have no reason to trust you.”

I switched the tune to Baby, It's Cold Outside, which I have heard Eren complain about multiple times for the past couple of days. “Maybe you don't.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I will kill you.”

“I really don't think you should go around murdering our guitarists, Eren.” Eren and I turned around; Mikasa stood before us, Jean slightly behind her.

“Do you hear what he is playing, Mika?!”

“I do. I was actually going to suggest that we practice that song or Christmas Canon in case we decide to play a Christmas concert or something.”

This evoked a look of pure betrayal from Eren. “Is there no one on my side here?!”

“We will be when you become more open-minded about music,” Jean shot back.

“You’re one to talk, you avoid Breaking Benjamin for no good reason!”

“I don't listen to Breaking Benjamin because they're awful.” Jean spoke slowly, as though Eren were not too bright. “That goes for Valora too.”

Eren jumped from his seat. “Talk smack about Valora one more time!”

“Jean. Eren. We are not doing this right now.” Mikasa scolded the two of them, as was a common role for her now. “Eren, Armin, did you tune your instruments?”

“Yes,” we said simultaneously.

“Good. Jean, tune your bass. We need to get ready to begin.” Mikasa attended to her drums after this announcement.

It was while Jean was tuning his bass that he spoke once more. 

“You know, Eren,” he began, surprisingly candidly, without taking his eyes off of his bass, “I heard you screaming up Mikasa's place the other night. Sounded like you were trying to broadcast all your problems all the way to Japan or something.”

“Jean,” Mikasa said, in a warning tone. Eren rose slowly, intimidatingly. “What do you got to say about it?”

A few moments’ pause. Then Jean began again. “I may not be black, but I know a little bit about feeling like you're living a double life. Trust me, your way is better. You go around pretending to be somebody you're not just to fit in, you end up losing what's important to you, stuff that's worth more than the opinions of a few closed-minded pricks. Your way… the benefits outweigh the costs.” His voice lowered at the final words, to a murmur.

Eren cocked his head to the side, completely crestfallen.

“I’m trying to say, like whatever you want. Nobody should tell you what to do with your life, and you shouldn't let them. You’ve got to live for yourself a little, ‘cause letting other people live for you is the best way to screw yourself over.”

Eren opened his mouth, possibly to shoot back a rebuttal, but no words came. For a few moments he looked conflicted, before finally letting out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, man.”

Jean held up a hand. “I don't want to hear that from you. I didn't tell you all that just so you could decide we’re BFF’s or whatever all of a sudden. I still think you're an annoying, bullheaded moron.”

A shrewd expression overtook Eren's features. “Fine. Then go to hell, you insufferable, egotistical, horse faced, left-handed douche nozzle.”

Jean's mouth curled into a barely-there smile, and he returned to tending his bass. “That's what I like to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I promised you a lighter chapter. And I gave you a heart-to-heart. Oops. ^_^""
> 
> I got to write a watching-the-sunrise scene between Eren and Armin! I had that idea in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to use it.
> 
> And of course, there's the little surprise I threw in there. ;) I figured y'all deserved it after twenty-seven chapters of concentrated angst. (So did they, for that matter.)
> 
> Title is a lyric from Rise Against's Far From Perfect.


	29. All I've Got Is Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, filler!
> 
> So, new year, new chapter! (I actually meant to have this done in the old year, but I hated every last single iteration of this chapter that I typed before now. XD)
> 
> Here's to this chapter not sucking. Enjoy!

“Thank you so much! You guys have been amazing!”

I gave a little bow-- a nervous gesture that started with our show at the Tavern, and that I kept doing because apparently the audience liked it-- and turned away from the mic. I felt a swelling of pride in my chest as I cleared my equipment off the stage and helped my bandmates with theirs.

“You guys” amounted to exactly seven people-- Ymir and Krista (who came to all of our shows), the blue-haired young man from our first show at Sasha's, and four other people I didn't recognize. Even so, I meant every word I said leaving that stage… the audience had been quite enthusiastic, and rocked out to every song. I could feel the outpouring of love with every passing moment I was on stage.

Although our band had been gaining traction over the past couple of months, the attendance numbers for our performances had been in constant flux-- some nights we’d play for twenty-five people, others we were playing for five, and still others could be summed up as “we’d like to thank Bobby for coming out tonight.” But no matter how large the audience was, most of them seemed engaged whenever we played. Even when they didn't, they would still come up to us and chat and buy a CD, sometimes a T-shirt. There was one thing I was sure of, through it all.

We were spectacular.

Of course, the voices didn't give up on their mission, in spite of my newfound conviction. Before every show, they would do their best to taunt me, try to force me to turn and run away from the audience, the stage, the music, my friends.

_You know they only cheer for you out of pity. You suck at guitar._

_You can't keep these people's attention forever. All you are is a boring, awkward nerd._

_You should just quit now. You're just going to fail, and lose the few friends you have. If they even really care about you._

_You're still nothing but a burden to Mikasa._

_You really think Jean suddenly cares about you just because he cried on the floor?_

_You can't actually believe Eren wants anything to do with you when he could have anyone he wants._

But in my mind, another voice had begun to grow. A small voice, yet defiant, somehow louder and more powerful than my “resist” mantra.

_Shut up._

Two words. The most empowering two words I had ever heard from myself. Those two words had begun to save me, getting me through the days and ensuring that I stepped onstage.

Somehow, the demons feared those words. Once I had them in my head, the demons scurried away, and stayed away for longer than usual. It gave me a sense of strength: I _could_ fight. I _could_ let my sickness go. I was strong enough to resist. I had the courage, the strength, to survive another day.

I put my guitar in its case and zipped it up, taking the time to sit and relax as I watched the others pack their things, waiting in case anyone needed help.

Mikasa was stacking her drums into a neat little tower, her cymbals already packed into the drawstring backpack she used for them. I couldn't help but marvel at how strong she was, as I knew that, when we were ready to leave, she would carry that entire stack back to Keith’s van on her own. However, I also knew that I would end up navigating her out of the theater-- the stack being in front of her face obscured her vision.

Jean and Eren were on the other side of her, bickering with each other as usual, even as they packed away their instruments. Despite Jean's insistence that the two were not friends, their jabs at each other came across as far less hostile than they used to. It felt more like friendly teasing than the virulent arguments that had so frequently led to fistfights between the two. Eren even helped Jean tie up his cords, albeit while arguing about whether or not Jean owed him. I could only shake my head fondly at this latest development.

When I rose and turned to go on the floor, a pair of arms suddenly grabbed my waist, and a disembodied voice sang in my ear, “Armiiiin.”

Fortunately for him, I knew me and the other members of the band were the only ones back here, or I probably would have screamed and started kicking. Instead I sang back, “yes, Eren?”

He laid his head on my shoulder. “I wanna go out tonight, after we leave here. You can pick the place.”

My face fell. As appealing as that idea was… “... I can't tonight. I told my dad I’d come straight home for practice.”

“Practice?”

“He set up this piano recital. It's in two weeks, and I have to practice for it.”

“Oh. That sucks. I wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Me too,” I murmured. I lightly stroked the back of his hand with my fingertips.

After a few moments’ pause, Eren spoke softly in my ear. “Tell him you’ve been kidnapped.”

I chortled. “Why would someone kidnap me?”

“Because they want money from your dad. If I remember correctly, you guys are loaded.”

“We're not ‘loaded,’ exactly…”

Eren shrugged. “Enough to be worth kidnapping, I'm pretty sure.”

“Alright… so how would I break the news? ‘Sorry, Dad, I can't come home because I’ve been kidnapped?’”

Eren clicked his teeth. “Of course not. You have to be more dramatic than that.” He heightened the pitch of his voice, and put on a panicked demeanor, a sob in his voice. “‘Dad? Is that you? I-I don't know where I am… these guys, they grabbed me on the way home and… I don't know what they want from me… they didn't tell me--!’ And then I grab the phone and I go ‘that's enough, brat.’” This time he lowered his voice to an intimidating baritone. “‘Listen, Arlert, you want your little urchin back, it's gonna cost you. I want my money by midnight or I blow his brains out, got it?’”

I laughed, applauding his performance. “Sure sounds convincing enough. But where would we send him to deliver the money to the ‘kidnappers?’ Assuming he even came.”

“Why wouldn't he? He's your dad, right?”

“He is… but part of me feels like if that actually happened, he’d just say, ‘I don't make deals with scum--’” this time I lowered the pitch of my voice-- “and just hang up the phone.”

“You really think he'd do that to you? He’s got to have some concern for you…”

I hummed a couple of small chuckles, a little bitterness lining them. “You're right. He’d save me, and then be sure to yell at me when we got home for ‘letting’ it happen.”

“Damn… your dad’s a real hardass.”

This time I couldn't help the burst of laughter that suddenly struck me. “You knew that already!”

“I guess, but still…”

I shrugged. “It's whatever. You’ve got it worse than me… you should worry more about yourself.”

“Armin.” He turned me around to face him, his voice suddenly growing stern. “Don't even start that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing reverse misery poker. It's counterproductive to compare your problems to other people.”

I sighed, an amused suspiration. “Eren, you are the last person to judge what is and is not counterproductive.”

Eren quirked an eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Didn't you break Jean's nose two weeks ago?”

“Bastard deserved it. Throwing out the last anchovy pizza. Just ‘cause _he_ doesn't know how to eat.”

“Even so, we had to cancel our show that week so he could get his bones realigned.”

“We’ll get it back,” Eren pouted. “Anyway, don't change the subject.”

“What subject?” I said, smirking deviously.

Eren laughed lightly. “You scumbag.” He laid a light kiss on my forehead. His lips began to trail down from there, between my eyebrows, along my nosebridge, to the tip of my nose, to…

“Hey.” This interjection was accompanied by two hard knocks, and the two of us turned to find Jean standing in the doorway. He was still wearing a dressing on his nose from the fight over the pizza, even though he didn't need it-- he wore it, as he himself admitted, because some girls thought it made him look cool. “You two want to stop groping each other and get out here? There's an angry mob waiting for us to come out and Mikasa and I can't hold them off by ourselves.”

Eren stared at him, unamused. “There aren't enough people out there to form a mob, halfwit.”

“I suppose that makes you a quarter-wit then? Since I'm obviously smarter than you.”  
“I’m not the one who can't count, Jeannie-boy.”

Jean bristled. “I thought I told you not to call me that!” During one of our practices, Jean's mother had come into the den with food and soda, doting especially on her son. She had called him by this nickname repeatedly, and Eren did not hesitate to use it to make fun of him.

“What, don't like the name your mother gave you, Jeannie-boy? You should be nicer to her, you know.”

“You should cut it out before I bash your face in!”

“Your mom’s right, Jeannie-boy. You really need to learn to manage that temper,” Eren said matter-of-factly.

“Like you can talk to anybody else about their temper! I'm not the one who damn near started a riot at Walmart!”

“And I'm not the one getting all bent out of shape over a nickname.”

Jean threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m not even talking to you anymore. You're just an ass. Just get out here and meet your public before they figure out the same thing.” He stormed back out to the floor.

Eren and I smiled at each other. “Shall we?” Eren began.

“Our crowd awaits,” I replied.

 

“Finally! I thought you two died in there.”

Ymir was the first of the “mob” to greet us when we arrived at the merch table. Jean jabbed a thumb at Eren. “He almost did.”

“You know you would have felt bad if you’d actually done it,” Eren said, with a teasing sideways glance at Jean.

“On the contrary, I would have celebrated my victory over drinks at a party.”

“What party? You wouldn't be invited.”

“Tch, I'm invited by default ‘cause I'm awesome. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Who invites narcissistic bassists to parties?”

“Who invites loudmouth cellists?”

“Alright, you two, get a room.” Ymir waved a dismissive hand at the two of them. “Eren, Reiner wants to know if you're free to knock back a few shots when you get out of here.”

A wide smile split Eren's face, and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he paused, took a glance at me, then Mikasa (who was chatting with a fan about two feet away), then Jean, before smiling apologetically to Ymir. “Nah. Maybe another time.”

Ymir's own grin was shrewd and tinged with pride. “You’ve been living up the name of Yeager-bomb less and less every day. This band has been good for you.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder, then turned her gaze to me. “I think something else has been good for you, too. Well, let me go break the bad news to Reiner.” She strode off.

I turned to Eren curiously. “Yeager-bomb?”

Eren glared at a wall a few feet away. He looked slightly embarrassed. “So I like alcohol.”

“Why am I simultaneously surprised and not?” Before Eren could offer a rebuttal, Jean went on, “you know, you can hang out with your friend if you want to. Nobody's stopping you.”

Eren narrowed his eyes. “Do you try to make everybody's decisions for them or am I just special for some reason?”

“I just don't want you blaming me for not talking to your friend tonight.”

“You say that like I give a damn about what you think.”

Jean flipped an imaginary lock of hair from his face. “Maybe you do. Maybe you treasure the wisdom I’ve accumulated beyond my years.”

“I seriously doubt trolling someone counts as wisdom.”

“I suppose you figure you're in the know because you look like one.” He rose slowly. “Anyway, I thought I saw a real bombshell giving me the eye. You two do what you like.” He disappeared into the gathering.

“Tch, ‘bombshell’ my ass… he always finds an excuse to leave right when I'm _this_ close to throwing him out the window.” He pinched his thumb and forefinger close together for emphasis.

“I would too. I'm not exactly a fan of being defenestrated.”

“There's a difference between him and you. You're not working my last nerve.”

“I could, you know,” I teased.

“Not even if you tried.”

“How do you know? I haven't tried yet.”

“I have a hunch. You’d be horrible at it.”

“Challenge accepted, Eren. One day I’m gonna try to piss you off.”

“I’ll rate you when the day comes,” he replied, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Watch yourself, I’ll be working hard for a ten.” A teasing smirk crossed my own lips.

Eren began to lean towards me. “That’ll be the one time I’ll be rooting against you.”

Neither of us heard the small voice trying to get our attention until the words were repeated a little louder.

“Ah, ‘scuse me…”

Both of us turned around, to see a small brown-skinned woman with glasses and purple Bantu knots standing before us. She smiled nervously. “Sorry to interrupt you guys, I just wanted to ask you something…”

“Yeah, go ahead,” I encouraged her.

“Well, I wanted to get a picture of you guys, and I thought it would be cool if you wrote your names on it.”

I blinked. Did she just ask us for our autographs? Eren's answer was more immediate, his eyes shining. “Sounds awesome! I’ll go get the other two.” He scurried off.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said.

I nodded slowly, still not quite fully processing what just happened. “No problem… but… why do you want our autograph? We're not famous or anything…”

She smiled again. “I think you will be. So if I get it now, I have proof that I was there at the beginning, you know?”

“Well, thanks for believing in us, then,” I said. This time I smiled.

“Sure.”

Eren returned a few moments later, with Mikasa and an annoyed-looking Jean in tow. “Now that you've dragged me back to our merch table, would you care to explain why you so rudely grabbed my shirt and yanked me away like a--”

“This young woman here would like a picture. And an _autograph._ ” Eren seemed to be taking great care to emphasize the last word.

It seemed to have worked, as Jean's eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth flipped upwards. “Well, why didn't you say so before?” He leaned over the table, looking into the girl's eyes, his smile flirtatious. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet such big fans of ou-- HEY!!” Eren had hooked two fingers into Jean's shirt collar and yanked him upwards.

“Please excuse our crotchety mood pendulum. I’d blame lack of caffeine, but Bass Guy here doesn't even drink coffee.”

Jean glared at Eren, a growl in the back of his throat. “It's fine,” the girl said, stifling a few giggles. “I'm just glad you're all here.”

The girl had us all stand together (Eren throwing his arms impromptu around everyone else's shoulders and pulling us close, annoying Jean to no end), and snapped the picture, which popped out from the top of the camera, small and wallet-sized. 

“Holy cow… dude, that camera is awesome,” Jean said.

“I think so too,” the girl responded. “I bring it to every show I go to.”

“I’m actually kind of flattered that you want our autograph,” I told her shyly.

“It's nothing. I really admire what you guys are doing. It's really inspiring to me, I relate to a lot of your songs.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” I really did; it had always been my dream to reach people through music.

When the image on the picture finally faded in, we all signed our names in the white spaces with a Sharpie. Afterwards, the girl stuck the photo in her wallet.

“Did you want a picture with us, too, or just of us?” Mikasa asked.

“Actually, yeah, that'd be great!”

Eren waved someone over. It was revealed to be Krista upon her arrival.

“You need something, Eren?”

“Yeah, this girl here… actually, what's your name?” He turned to the girl.

“Um, Lynn.”

“Eren.” He held out his hand, and Lynn accepted the handshake.

“Jean.”

“Arlin.” As yet another measure to keep my father from finding out about my other life, I had taken a pseudonym in addition to my usual disguise.

“Mikasa.”

Lynn shook each of our hands in turn, and Eren turned back to Krista. “Lynn here wants to take a picture with us.”

Krista smiled proudly. “You've only been playing for four months, and you’ve already got such big fans! You guys should be proud of yourselves.”

I was, but… I averted my eyes, feeling a bit on the spot. Lynn chuckled sheepishly at being caught in the middle of the whole thing.

“Anyway, everyone get together…”

We stood together once more, adopting a similar group pose as we had when Lynn had been the the photographer. We had her stand in front of us, as she was the smallest, and she adopted a crossed-armed, tough-looking pose which made us all giggle a bit.

She tucked this picture in her wallet as well after Krista had taken it, thanking us after she had zipped it up.

“No problem! We’ll see you at the next show, hopefully,” Eren said to her.

“Oh, you will.” She smiled, a self-assured smile, and walked away.

I couldn't help but smile at her retreating back. Although people had approached us before, to buy a CD or sometimes leave a tip, this had been the first time someone had asked us for something like an autograph. The whole encounter made me feel like a real rockstar.

“That was pretty unexpected, wasn't it?” I looked up at Eren's words; he, too, had been watching Lynn as she left.

“It was… I never would've thought something like that would happen.”

“You guys don't have enough confidence,” Jean said, clapping me on the back. “The way I figure, we should be swarmed with adoring fans.”

"We probably would be if your face wasn't scaring people away,” Eren replied calmly, still staring straight ahead.

“The hell you say, I’m the main attraction in this band.”

“You're probably right… I'm sure they all wonder how we got a horse to learn to play bass.”

“Probably the same place where we found a cat that won't shut the hell up,” Jean shot back, growling.

As Jean and Eren continued to bicker (and Mikasa gave up stopping them), my thoughts returned to Lynn. My lips curled upwards at the pride that swelled in my chest. At that moment, it felt almost like it had been years since I had deemed myself and my music unworthy to be heard by anyone, since the days when I was sure I would never make it as a musician. 

Watching the other three, I thought of how worthless I once felt as a person. Just four months ago, I would have been so sure that I didn't deserve any of this.

Even now, in the back of my mind, I wasn't entirely sure that this was real. To be in a growing rock band, surrounded by people who cared about me… it had to be a dream, some delusion I had created. Everything I had come to gain, it was too beautiful to be true.

However… that night I chose, instead, to listen to my heart. I wanted to believe that this was real, that I was worthy of it. This time, I was sure, I would fight back my demons instead of giving in.

I was only upset that I still couldn't freely tell my father about any of this. No matter how good I got, how great things went for me, I knew he would never approve.

Even so, I felt just then that maybe there could be just a little hope for the future.

Maybe all I had, right now, was all I really needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I reach a dilemma. On the one hand, this sounds a little like an ending. On the other hand, I have a bunch of little plot lines I still want to resolve, loose ends to tie up... I shall have to do what my muses tell me, whatever happens.
> 
> For now, I shall see you all next chapter... and if not, see you next story.
> 
> Title is from Slow Down by Icon For Hire.


	30. My Mind's A Kaleidoscope, It Thinks Too Fast (Still Scared To Want You)

My fingers were frozen.

I couldn't move them. No matter how hard I tried, they refused to play a single chord.

My voice wouldn't cooperate either. I tried simply screaming into the microphone, like I had done at the Tavern, but all I got was a weak squealing whine.

The crowd was staring at me impatiently, waiting for me to begin. I was trying hard to not be sick right there on stage.

After about five minutes of this, Jean slung off his bass and tossed it aside. “You know what? Screw this. I can't keep standing here waiting for you to decide to get your goddamn act together. I'm out of here before you embarrass me more than you already have.” He stormed off the stage.

“Wait--!” I called out, before Mikasa shot up roughly from her throne, slamming her drumsticks down.

“How could you do this to us? You're a disgrace.” She stomped after Jean.

“No…” They can't leave me now. Please, give me a chance…

I turned to Eren. Eren was my last hope. Eren could maybe convince the other two to come back. I was met with cold green eyes in return.

“I guess this really was nothing but a hobby after all. You disgust me, you know that? Do me a favor and drop dead.” He cast aside the bow to his cello and followed Mikasa and Jean.

“No… please…” Finally finding my voice, I cried out. “Don't leave me! Come back!”

“You're pathetic. I'm ashamed to call you a son.”

I whipped around to look at the person who spoke behind me. I stared into the icy face of my own mother. She greatly resembled me-- same eye shape, same facial structure, even the same height-- the only difference being her eye color, a deep chocolate brown, and her long spiky hair that matched. I shook my head, my eyes pleading with her to help me… to comfort me like she used to.

“I can't believe I raised such an untalented, insecure baby. I'm glad I don't have to watch you flail around like a dying fish every time you walk onstage. I hope this band goes down in flames and you never do this again. You're a disappointment to my legacy.” Her voice was cold and bitter when she spoke, and she turned on her heel and marched away from me.

“Mom!” She wasn't listening-- she didn't even look back, instead disappearing backstage with the others.

A hard object struck me forcefully in the back of the head. I turned, clutching my head in pain, and looked down to see a bloody baseball on the floor.

“Get off the stage, poser!”

“You suck!”

“What did you bother coming here for if you can't sing?!”

“Did you forget everything we worked hard for?!” Marco shouted this at me from the crowd.

“I didn't! I just-- ah!” A shoe caught the side of my mouth, now causing the corner to bleed. More hard objects came flying at me-- beer cans, glass bottles, more shoes, stones--

“NO!”

My eyes snapped open. My hand had shot towards the ceiling, palm fully opened. I could feel wetness all over my body-- cold sweats. I was out of breath, my heart palpitating, and I could feel myself shaking all over.

I couldn't figure out why I had had that nightmare. I hadn't had nightmares in ages… stranger yet, I was wearing Eren's hoodie, and even now a Three Days Grace song was flowing into my ears.

When I had finally calmed my breathing, I stumbled out of bed, removed and hid the hoodie, and shakily made my way to the bathroom to splash my face.

The cold water hitting my face managed to calm my body somehow, but my brain continued to race. I couldn't quite shake the things I heard in the dream-- were they true? Is that what they really thought of me. No-- it couldn't be. If they really felt that way, they would have said so, wouldn't they?

What was I even doing having these kinds of nightmares anyway? I was supposed to be past all this. I had everything I wanted-- I was in a growing rock band and gaining stardom, my fans loved me, Mikasa loved me, Eren loved me, Jean made up with me…

So why was I still not happy?

_Because you're a selfish, pathetic excuse for a human being. It's a wonder any of them put up with you._

I didn't have it in me to argue. I couldn't argue-- I still hadn't ever really answered that question myself. Why did any of them bother with me? What did I have to give any of them?

I should just stop burdening them…

_Will you stop that already?!_

The voice in my head began to speak again. However, rather than the voice of my usual inner critic… I heard the sentence in Jean's voice. I had never even heard him say that before.

_Enough putting yourself down already! You think I would keep hanging out with you if I hated you? Give me some credit!_

_We’ve been friends for five years… you really think all those years were a lie?_ Mikasa's voice had replaced Jean's. _You're like a brother to me… don't you understand that?_

 _Armin, stop being so damn hard on yourself._ Eren's voice now. _You mean so much to me… didn't I tell you?_

Why am I coming up with all of this?!

The thoughts and voices kept coming, a constant stream of praises I knew I didn't deserve. I knew I shouldn't have been putting words in my bandmates’ mouths, yet I couldn't seem to stop them; they refused to be stemmed.

Maybe I didn't want to stop them.

Was I really that bad of a person?

I grabbed a towel from the rack, burying my face in it as I continued to hear the voices of my bandmates… my friends.

No. Not my friends. I didn't deserve to call them my friends.

_That's not true, Armin. You're special to all of us._

No… no I'm not… you can find other singers...

_That's not anywhere near the point. Sure we can find another singer, but there's only one Armin in the world, and we don't want a replacement._

It doesn't matter… I don't matter…

_You do matter. None of us wants anything to happen to you. We love you, Armin. I love you._

_“No!”_ I slammed both of my fists against the sink. Throbbing pain shot through my flesh as muscle and bone banged against metal, though it stopped nothing.

I stared down at my still-clenched fists, tears which I refused to let out threatening their escape. I would not let myself cry again. Wasn't I weak enough as it was?

How could the three of them willingly put up with me? First I was a burden to them, I couldn't even launch my own damn band properly, and now that I've had a little help, all this rockstar business is getting to my head. I'm pretending they're all singing my praises when I know… I _know…_

“Armin?”

I jumped and spun around, dropping the towel I had buried my face in. My father stood before me, his face harboring a concerned expression.

“Dad?”

“Is something the matter, Armin? I heard you shouting…”

I shook my head. “It's okay. I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? Those boys aren't bothering you again, are they?”

I shook my head again. “I’m okay, really. Don't worry about me.”

“I always worry about you. You're my only son. I love you.”

I sighed and looked up at my father, giving him a smile that I hoped was convincing. “You don't have to. I promise I'm alright.” I gave him a playful fist bump to the arm, just in case. “You should get some sleep though. You’ve got a big presentation at work, right? You should probably rest up for that. I’ll be rooting for you.”

He paused, looking at me as though trying to scan me for any lies. I continued to smile, hoping he didn't find any.

Finally he smiled back at me. “Thank you for your support, Armin.” He patted me on the head. “You should return to bed as well, so you can prepare for school tomorrow. You might want to fix a hot drink to help you sleep.” I nodded once, and he retreated from the bathroom, but not before turning back to me when he reached the doorway. “Don't leave that towel on the floor, by the way.”

I picked the towel up and threw it in the hamper, before leaving for my own room. Once I was back in my bed, it was all I could do to stop the tears from escaping my eyes. The only thing left from there was to try and keep them as quiet as possible.

 

Mikasa was setting up her piece. Eren and Jean were arguing about something pointless.

I couldn't care less about any of it. I was slumped on the couch in Jean's den, staring at my guitar in my lap, much like when Eren first began playing with us.

Except this time, instead of anxious, I felt empty. Lifeless. Dull. Numb. I couldn't bring myself to lift my eyes from the guitar or the guitar from my lap. I could barely move a single finger.

I heard some chatter going on around me, but I could barely hear it over my jumbled, racing mind. Thoughts shot through my head, one after the other, with no semblance of order or even comprehension.

_Horrible… failure… worthless… burden… idiot… weak… sad sack…_

“Armin? Are you okay?”

My head snapped up. Mikasa's face was close to mine. Eren and Jean stood behind and to either side of her. All three of them bore similar expressions of curious concern.

A sudden wave of emotions slammed into me all at once. _Don't look at me like that… you're just going to leave me…_

“No…” I could feel my eyes burning, and I pushed past them and, letting my guitar fall off my lap and clatter to the floor, I ran as fast as I could.

 

My back was against the wall, and I was curled up into a ball, my chest heaving with sobs, when I felt someone slide down next to me, and heard Eren's voice.

“Are you okay? We're worried about you, you know.”

I shook my head hard. “Please go away.”

“That would have hurt more if you hadn't begged.”

I glared at him. “Then get out.”

“I can't. I'm already outside.”

“Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay?! Just leave me the hell alone!” I buried my face back into my knees.

Eren seemed intent on doing everything except leave me the hell alone. He laid a hand on the top of my head, trying to stroke my hair. I slapped his hand away mid-stroke. Not to be deterred, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I shoved him away.

“Stop touching me! What do you want from me?!”

“The same thing Mikasa and Jean want. To know what's going on in your head right now.”

“No it's not! What do you really want from me?! You're just going to walk out on me anyway, so just take whatever it is and get out!”

“The fu-- why would I walk out on you?”

“ _Because everybody does!_ Nobody ever wants to be around me! Annie turned on me, Mom and Marco died just to get away from me, you already tried to leave twice, and Mikasa and Jean are going to leave when they get whatever they need out of me! I don't mean anything to anybody and I know that, and I wish people would stop acting like they give a damn about me, because nobody does! Nobody does…” I curled tighter into my ball. “I just want to disappear… I can't do this anymore… I can't take this weight anymore...”

Eren let me sob for about thirty more seconds before he pried me from my ball and pulled me close to him, his arms tight and protective around me.

“The hell you can't. You're one of the strongest people I’ve met.”

I shook my head, my face now buried in his chest. “I’m not that strong…”

“Says the guy who stood up to five larger dudes because they were harassing me and Ymir.”

I pushed myself away from him, to look into his eyes as I spoke. “I couldn't do anything that day! All I did was stand there and get hit!” My eyes lowered to the ground. “I… I'm too weak to do anything… it's why I keep getting bullied…”

“Armin.” He tilted my head up, affecting eye contact between us. “Your dad hates rock music. You’ve been bullied for god knows how long. You lost your first bassist and your best friend. You’ve had to hide your band, change your appearance, use a pseudonym… and even through all of that, you stayed true to yourself and your passion. You never lost sight of who you are. Take it from me, that's the hardest thing to do in the face of disapproval, and you did it. If that isn't strength, I don't know what is.”

“But…” My body was still trembling. “I… I wish I was different. I wish I didn't have to feel like this…”

A pause.

“Me too. Sometimes.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You…?”

He nodded, his eyes now wistful and melancholy. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if things were different. If my parents had introduced me to R&B and hip-hop instead of rock. If I hadn't become a punk. If I’d never learned the cello. If I hadn't been gay, even. What would be different? Would I be normal, instead of messed up in the head? Would I have more friends? Hell, maybe I’d have gotten married and started a business or something by now. I don't regret who I am now, and I wouldn't change it for the world, but… sometimes I think about that alternate universe a lot. And I wonder… is that version of me happier? Has he got life all figured out? Or is it still his bad luck to be just like me-- sad and scared and hiding it as much as possible. Maybe both versions of me are depressed. I’ll never know, though, so I’ve got to live with all I’ve got now.” A smile, bright as the summer sun. “Besides, I’ve got you guys to back me up now.”

“But why me, Eren?” My eyes were threatening to spill over once more. “I can't give you anything… I can't even give you money.”

“I don't want your money.”

“Then what do you want? What do I have that's worth anything to you?!”

He sighed and gazed into the distance, not saying a word. After a pregnant pause, I took this to be his answer, and turned to leave.

“Oni ari sonna live…” This was what I got out of Eren's mumble.

I turned back around. “What?”

“I said…” He took a breath, letting it out in a shuddering sigh. “I said you gave me a reason to live.”

That one sentence was enough to put me into cardiac arrhythmia. “Wha… how could I…?”

He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, eyes cast down. “I wish you wouldn't make me say it. I'm freaking terrified as it is.”

There was a good part of me that wanted to just leave it at that and let him be, and a selfish part of me that needed to hear his inner feelings. The selfish part won out, and I laid a hand on Eren's arm. “Please.”

He turned his sights upwards, locking eyes with me. Desperate blue met aqua green, and he finally relented.

“After I left home, I was devastated. I had nothing. I’d abandoned the only family I thought cared about me, I had hardly any friends, no place to go… I tried to drown out all my thoughts in music and alcohol, but at the end of the day, I still woke up numb. Sometimes I even cried myself back to sleep if I had nothing to do the next morning. I had Ymir, Krista, and Bolt to support me, but I was so screwed up by that time that I really couldn't trust them completely. It was impossible. I just wanted to die so badly. Then…” Another shuddering suspiration. “Then I met you… you knew nothing about me, but you saved my life… even so, I spent nearly my entire time knowing you just waiting for the day when you’d want to cash in on your favor, or when I found out you were just using me for something… I still don't really know how many motorcycle rides it would take to repay you. And yet… I don't think it matters. Not to you. You… you're the first person I’ve fallen in love with that proved to me that you care for me because of who I am. And you gave me my family back, and helped me live my dream... and it makes me think… that maybe there's some hope in this shitty world after all.”

“But… Eren… I didn't do any of that…”

“Well, you were pretty damn instrumental,” Eren laughed. “If I had never met you, I wouldn't be standing here right now. You don't know how much that means to me, and I wish I could tell you.”

His words sent me to the verge of tears once more. His words came out reverent, as though he looked up to me… me, who could do nothing for him, who had nothing to contribute… I was practically his superhero. Just like the way I felt about him.

And I treated him so badly…

“I’m so sorry, Eren. For everything.”

He pulled me close once more, into a gentle hug. “It's fine. I know you were just upset.”

We were both silent for a long while. I couldn't think of a single thing to say. There was nothing I could say to really answer that.

But maybe there was something I could do, right now, to show my feelings.

I pushed gently away from him, so that I could look at him. I put my hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him. Perhaps sensing my intent, he leaned closer as well, until our lips were touching. He kissed me as softly as ever, and I tried, in my body language, to encourage him to be rougher than he normally would be.

I had always suspected that the things that had happened to him got under his skin more than he let on. His outburst that one night, and his words today, confirmed my suspicions.

I didn't want him to bottle up his pain anymore. I wanted him to have an outlet, somewhere to channel all his emotions. I couldn't do much for him, but I could at least be that outlet for him. He could take everything, all of his pain, his anger, his aggression, out on me if he needed to. It was the least that I could give him.

 

I had expected Mikasa and Jean to ask why my hair was so unkempt, but neither of them commented on it. I was glad for that… I didn't quite feel like explaining.

Mikasa stood next to me as I silently picked up my guitar and watched quietly as I tuned it. This gesture usually means I'm in some kind of trouble, and I knew better than to ask what was wrong. I instead waited for her to tell me what she wanted.

“You don't trust me.” It wasn't a question, and it didn't come out angry, but sad.

I snapped my head to her. The pain in her eyes squeezed down on my heart and stomach.  
“... why do you think that?”

“I heard you shouting. Why would I leave you?”

Oh. She heard all that. I buried my face in my hands. “It's complicated. I just… I know you love me objectively, but… well, at school, everyone likes you. Everyone wants to be your friend. All the guys want to go out with you. A lot of the _girls_ want to go out with you. Yet you're hanging out with me, the one person in the entire school that everyone hates. It's just that… I can't fathom why you would want to be around me, of all people.”

She huffed a laugh. “You still don't remember?”

I peered back up to her. “Huh?”

A gentle, nostalgic smile had crossed her face. “I can't believe you still don't remember the first time you met me.”

“I do… it was when Tobias--”

She shook her head. “No. Not that.” She took my hand and sat down on the couch, gently tugging me down along with her.

“It was when I first transferred to your middle school. Eren had just left home. I couldn't talk to anybody; I was too depressed. I just went through the motions everyday, and pretended I was okay.

“One day, you came and sat at my table. You were being quiet, like you were trying to escape my notice, but I saw you anyway. You apologized and started to move, but I asked you to stay, and you did. You were quiet for a long time, and I ended up confiding in you. I was just so overwhelmed, I had to tell someone. You told me… you assured me that you felt like this person who left me-- I hadn't told you who it was-- you said it sounded like they loved me a lot, and that you were sure they were thinking about me. That they wouldn't be gone long, and I would see them again sooner than I thought. And you wished me luck, and hoped I would make a lot of friends.”

…? “That's all I did?”

“It was what I needed. No one else had even bothered trying to interact with me in more than a shallow manner. I just know that if I had told anybody else what I told you, they probably would have laughed at me, or turned away. But you stayed with me, and comforted me. I knew from that moment you would be the best friend I would ever have. So I looked for you, everywhere. And I found you-- though not in the most ideal conditions.” Her voice dropped, and she glared at a nearby wall.

I couldn't speak. I did remember that incident, now that I think about it, but I never thought she thought about it. I never once imagined that something as petty as a few words would mean that much to her.

She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Do you understand now? What your worth is?”

I blinked at her, perplexed.

“You're very kind, Armin. You know how to speak to people. You know how to hurt them just as much as help them, and yet you’ve only ever chosen to help. I admire that power. It's why I have so much faith in you.”

“I…” Instead of a verbal response, I threw my arms around Mikasa and pulled her into as tight a hug as I could muster. Mikasa returned the favor, patting my back lightly.

“So,” Mikasa said, when we pulled apart, “suppose you keep giving the world your gift, huh? Let's keep bringing your purpose to life, together.”

I smiled at her, nodding. “Let's take over the world.”

 

That night, I sat at the piano in the basement, struggling to come up with a melody to play. My fingers rested on the keys, stagnant. My mind remained active, racing with the talk I’d had with Eren and Mikasa.

In spite of what they’d said to me… I still had trouble truly believing I was worth their time. They may have told me they had their reasons for loving me… but I still couldn’t understand. Sure, I may have done a few things they thought were nice, but… what merit did I have now?  
My head fell onto the keys, the impact creating a dissonant improvised note. I began listening to my breathing, feeling the rise and all of my chest, slowing it down gradually. An image of an old friend flitted into my head.

“Marco,” I whispered, “what do I do…?”

_“I feel like you might just be scared.”_

_I blinked at Marco, who nodded sagely. “Huh?”_

_“That's why you haven't asked her out, isn't it? You're scared.”_

_“I-I'm not scared of anything… she's just not interested…”_

_He tilted his head to the side. “You sure about that? You're the only one she actually bothers speaking to for more than half a minute. You know even more about her than that curly-haired girl that follows her around. Hitch, is it?”_

_“That doesn't mean she's interested…”_

_He huffed a laugh, nodding his head. “Okay, Armin, you’ve convinced me.” He put both his hands on my shoulders. “You're not scared. You're terrified.”_

_“No! I just, I don't want to ask her just to be told no… eh?” Marco was shaking his head at me.”_

_“That's not it. You know that if she says no, it's not going to break you, unless she verbally attacks you. And you and even I both know she's not that kind of person. She won't put anyone down unless they did something to actually warrant it. Rather, I think you're afraid she'll say yes.”_

_“But… why would I be afraid of that?”_

_He smiled gently. “Because if she falls in love with you, you’ll have to acknowledge the possibility that you're worthy of being cared about."_

_“That doesn't make any sense…”_

_“It will once you realize you're afraid of hope. It's a lot easier to think everyone is out to get you and never open up than to trust someone and risk being wrong. The possibility of being right doesn't seem worth it. But I can tell you: it really is. I mean, being wrong is pretty rough… but once you’re finally right, it's the best feeling in the world.” He patted my shoulder. “Ask her out. I’ve got a feeling you're going to end up being right.”_

_I had one more question. “... what made you think all of that?”_

_His eyes were kind as they met mine. “I was the same way, once. Until I became friends with Jean.”_

My head rested on the piano keys, my eyes staring out at nothing in particular. Marco had been wrong about both people: Jean had betrayed him, and Annie had walked out on me.  
Then again, Jean had realized his mistake… he had been trying to atone. But Annie hadn't spoken to me since the day we parted ways… I heaved a sigh.

After a few minutes, I pushed myself up, wiped my face (I had wound up crying a little at some point), and stretched my arms and fingers. This time, my fingers had decided on the tune they wanted to play, choosing a song I had stumbled across on YouTube.

The music flowed around me, wrapping me in comfort and warmth. Time and my surroundings disappeared as I stroked the keys, banging out note after note, chord after chord, each one streaming through my thoughts, sifting through them and bringing them to the surface and into the light.

I reached the final phase of the song, the final notes softly piddling down. The last note rang through the room when I was finished, reverberating through my heart and soul.

_Maybe I’m the one who's wrong._

_Maybe I am worthy of them…_

Trembling slightly, I slowly made my way back upstairs to my room. Before I got back into my bed, I sent a text to Mikasa.

_Let's go out this weekend. The four of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, I had that conversation with my muses. Here's how that went:
> 
> Me: I think I'm going to end the story here.  
> Muse: *pulls a gun* The hell you are! You still haven't resolved a damn thing! I know you know Eren and Armin are still sick in the head and that you've still got loose ends to tie up. Get your ass back behind that keyboard before I blow your fucking brains out.  
> Me: *cowering* Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going. I'll keep writing, I'll be good. Please don't hurt me.
> 
> Yeah, my muses act like Popuko from Pop Team Epic. (Which I highly recommend, by the way.)
> 
> So, forget I ever wrote that note in the last chapter. That was my actual depression talking, not my overly-violent, scary muse. XD So look forward to this story continuing to roll along to the actual ending.
> 
> Also, I may or may not edit or delete the last chapter. I feel like either something is missing from it, or it's just plain a hot mess. I'll let you guys know either way (unless I delete it, because you'll already know if this fic is suddenly one chapter shorter. XD) (EDIT: I wrote a chapter after this, but merged it with this one. Chapter 29 stays.)
> 
> And so, with confidence I say: I will see you guys next chapter! Hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> Title is from not one, but TWO Icon For Hire songs-- Hope of Morning and Fix Me, respectively.


	31. The Pieces Won't Pick Up Themselves, You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement: For those who read the last two chapters before I changed them up: they are now one chapter. They just didn't sound right to me on their own, but together... they're a powerhouse.
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter Thirty- ~~Two~~ One.

A loud buzzing sound close to his head had startled him out of his sleep. Groaning, Eren blinked until he thought he was awake enough to move his arms, and stared up groggily at his inexpensive nightstand. He was just able to glimpse his phone illuminating the half-darkened room for a split second before the light went out.

He growled at the nightstand and snatched his phone off of it, cursing whoever the hell decided that it was a good idea to send him a text message at this time of the morning. Judging from the way the sparse sunlight peeked through the window, it had to be around early seven-ish. He knew that this wasn't considered “late”-- or “early” or whichever one you call it, Eren still had no idea how it worked-- but anybody who knew Eren knew that he was a night owl and liked to sleep in, and rarely had anything to do in the morning anyway, unless he was giving lessons, of which he had none scheduled this week. There shouldn't have been anybody texting him before ten, especially on a Saturday.

_I swear to god, if Reiner is drunk texting me again…_

He turned the screen back on, prepared to call Reiner and curse him out, hangover be damned… but instead found an unfamiliar number on his screen.

_Armin, Mikasa and I are hanging out this afternoon. They told me to tell you._

The haze of sleep that still lingered over Eren's brain blocked him from comprehending the identity of the texter. His only clue was that the person knew him, Armin, and Mikasa all at once.

He typed out _Who is this? How did you get this number?_ and hit Send. He slapped himself repeatedly in the face, trying to knock his sleep-addled brain into place.

Right as he had woken up enough to answer his own question, his phone buzzed with another message.

_This is Jean, idiot. Who else are you in this band with, Prince?_

Eren gritted his teeth at the phone. This little… _The hell are you texting me for at this time of morning? And you still haven't told me how you got my number._ Eren kind of knew already, but that didn't mean he was letting this kid get away with not answering his question.

He resigned himself to the idea that he was not getting any more sleep whatsoever, and had spun into a sitting position at the edge of the bed and stripped himself of his nightshirt when his phone buzzed again.

_Do I need to fax you our album cover so you remember who you’re in a band with? How do you think I got it?_ Eren was just about to reply to that when another one came in right after. _And in case you didn't notice, it's seven in the morning._

_What kind of a freak even wakes up at this time of morning?_

When the next message came in, Eren had already begun to get dressed, and decided to ignore it until he was done. He pored over the outfits stored in the small wardrobe, trying to decide which one was best for an afternoon out. Being a rockstar did strange things to a guy: where Eren had once been content to simply wear his trenchcoat and jeans, and owned multiple copies of the same outfit, since joining Hope Inside Truth he now owned a veritable arsenal of punk-style clothing, some of which he’d purchased from a store in the Village, but many which he had actually created himself. Playing shows with the band had also given him more to work with financially, which had allowed him to keep his rent paid more often at the Y (a good thing for him, as he had gotten too used to living on his own, and didn't want Mikasa to keep dragging him back to the house), which also meant more space to put all of these new clothes.

Deciding he wanted to keep his outfit simple, but also wanted a bit of flair, he decided on a loose-fitting dark purple tank top, black slim jeans with side slits he’d cut into the ankles and filled with thin red denim, a long belt chain he’d made out of some of those department store security tag chains, and his black Converse, topping it off with a homemade necklace-- also made from a department store chain, with an orange-colored soda can tab for a charm. 

Mentally adding his trenchcoat to the outfit, he decided he approved of the look-- he especially loved how badass that jean chain made him look-- but decided at the last minute that a bit of guyliner would finish off the outfit. He also decided to ruffle his already shaggy hair, giving the appearance of a bedhead.

Pleased with his appearance, he grabbed his coat and his phone, taking a quick glance at the screen before he left.

_It's called being a normal human being. Normal people get up in the actual daytime and do things._

_Whatever your twisted definition of “normal” is, you abandoned it the minute you joined a rock band. Learn to sleep in like the rest of us._

 

“You still running around doing that white shit?”

Eren sighed. “I’m not getting into it with you now, Mitabi. Go away.”

“I just don't see what all this mess is about. You got a great culture right here, why do you wanna copy white people?”

Eren had thoroughly hoped Mitabi wouldn't bother him today, or at least that whatever he said would be something important. Unfortunately, neither had been the case. Mitabi liked to fancy himself Eren's “friend,” and yet every time he ran into the other man, all he seemed to ever have to offer was criticism, and always over the same thing. Occasionally Mitabi would invite Eren out somewhere, and he’d turn it down every time-- he wasn't going to be subjected to more criticism of his lifestyle over rounds. Especially if the excursion ended with him socking Mitabi, as so many of their conversations did.

“I’m not ‘copying white people,’” Eren began in spite of his intentions, fixing Mitabi with a deadpan stare. “Hard rock and punk isn't just a ‘white’ thing. Do you even have any idea where rock music came from in the first place?”

“Just ‘cause they stole it don't mean it was made for us. Why not quit acting like you're somebody you ain't and embrace your heritage? In case you haven't noticed, you ain't white.”

Eren took a deep breath, reminding himself to remain calm. Mitabi’s question wasn't particularly offensive, but it reminded him too much of Austin. 

“This is who I am, Mitabi. And it doesn't erase what I am. Not conforming to your narrow definition of what it means to be black doesn't mean I no longer am.”

“So you're gonna stand there and tell me you don't listen to a bunch of white music? What's so special about that crap anyway? Name just one of those bands you worship so much that got one black person in it.”

About a day before this conversation, Eren had had a run-in with another racist, like the guys in the alley that one day, who made fun of him for his chosen outfit that day. Although still reeling from that last encounter the previous year, he had gained more confidence as well, having met more people and gained reassurance from his loved ones; hence, before beating the guy to a pulp, he gave him a similar speech to the one he was about to give Mitabi.

Grabbing Mitabi’s shirt, he slammed the other man against a nearby wall, moving to stand in front of him and pin him against the wall. Mitabi flinched when Eren raised his fist to his face; feeling no impact, he opened his eyes to see Eren had raised a single finger into the air.

“Sevendust. Candiria. Dead Kennedys. Death. Fishbone. Living Colour. TV On The Radio. Pure Hell. Bad Brains. Suicidal Tendencies. Straight Line Stitch. Orange 9mm. Unlocking The Truth. Yellowcard. Stuck Mojo. Gym Class Heroes. Fire From The Gods. Fall Out Boy.” He put up a finger for each band he rattled off, occasionally balling back up his hand and starting over when he’d reached all five fingers. “Have a look at those bands, and then come back to me. As for your other question, you don't get to tell me what something is allowed to mean to me just because you don't understand it.” He turned on his heel then, and walked off before Mitabi could say anything more.

 

Eren still hadn't quite gotten over the sinking, unsettling feeling that often came over him whenever he was forced into a conflict about his music taste or his lifestyle. It wasn't exactly fear-- more like a combination of anger, exasperation, and annoyance. Though he’d wanted to eat breakfast, he decided to skip it and eat after he’d finished smoking.

Leaning against the wall outside the building, he tried focusing on the burning in his throat from the smoke to keep his mind off of the conflict from earlier. He seriously wished Mitabi would just stop talking to him. He couldn't understand why the man insisted on glomming onto him. They were obviously two different people, which would have been fine by Eren if Mitabi would just respect their differences.

Willing himself to calm down, Eren took another drag on the cigarette. It wasn't like he even had to care what Mitabi or anybody thought, anyway. He didn't have many friends-- he talked to a lot of people, sure, but he was really only close with Ymir, Krista and Bolt-- but even so, none of them cared that he was different.

Mikasa sure as hell didn't care.

Jean didn't care, aggravating as he was.

Armin didn't seem to, either.

Armin… just thinking about him sent a flutter through Eren's stomach. It was funny, he’d had no real intention of letting him that far into his life. It should have been simple-- he helps the kid with his band, they do great, he leaves. Getting attached to him wasn't part of the plan. He most certainly wasn't expecting to fall in love with him at any point.

But he’d fallen, and fallen hard. In fact, it wasn't even like falling-- more like he’d crashed in the middle of a crowded expressway and very well may have caused a twenty-car pileup, and then gasoline leaked from his engine and his cigarette accidentally fell out of his mouth, landed in the gas, and exploded, burning everything he ever knew into ash.

And it was downright terrifying. Terrifying because he didn't think he could afford to trust him so deeply. Terrifying because he didn't know what he’d do if he got hurt again. Terrifying because what if, after all, he turned out to be like Austin, or that gang in the alley?

Terrifying because he didn't particularly care.

He wanted to dive into this-- whatever it was-- headfirst and never come up for air. He wanted to melt into Armin with his whole heart and everything he had. He wanted to share everything he had with Armin-- down to the deepest corners and every ventricle, artery, and capillary of his heart.

But he couldn’t. The things Armin had managed to get from him were already too much… he couldn’t possibly give more, just to watch it all be thrown away again.

But maybe he wouldn’t… maybe Armin was different…

Or maybe he wasn’t…

Then again, he was friends with Mikasa… Mikasa didn't make friends with just anybody. If Armin was good enough for her, he had to be pretty decent, right?

For a few moments-- a few moments he knew were completely illogical-- he wanted to blame Mikasa for this. After all, she had been the monkey wrench in Eren’s carefully-laid plan… there was no way he was going to abandon his sister again after four years apart.

If she hadn’t been friends with Armin, Eren wouldn’t be worrying like this.

Then again, if he hadn’t walked out on her, she might never have met Armin.

Or would she?

He should have ran when he had the chance. He shouldn't have let Armin convince him to stay.

But if he hadn't, he would have never seen her again… although it was too late to cut out now that he’d been reunited with her…

Damn it.

Why isn’t this cigarette calming him down today?!

A hand laid itself on his shoulder. He spun around on his heel, his fist swinging, ready to take out his assailant. Ymir swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding Eren’s attack, before grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back, pinning him to the wall.

“Now really, is that any way to treat a friend who dropped in for a surprise visit?” she said playfully, before releasing his arm.

He rounded on her. “God damn it, Ymir! What the hell did you think you were doing?! Why would you sneak up on me like that, Jesus Christ!”

Ymir narrowed her eyes. “Well, excuse me, princess. Obviously you have something better to do.” She turned to walk away, but before she could, Eren grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Wait… I’m sorry, it’s just… I was just thinking.”

Ymir cocked her head. “You want to talk about it?”

Eren hesitated. Did he want to talk about it? After a few more moments, he sighed. “You know what, yeah.”

Ymir blinked her eyes, stunned. “Wow. This must be serious. You never want to talk about it.”

“Well, are you going to let me or not?” Ymir glared at him again, but otherwise offered no protest. He felt immediately badly for snapping at her… he’d have to buy her dinner or something to make up for it.

“It’s… it’s not that serious. It’s about Armin.”

“Your boyfriend?” Eren nodded. “Eren, social protocol 101: boyfriends are always serious.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

“Hello?” Ymir and another voice-- Krista (he had somehow failed to notice she was there)-- spoke at the same time, and Ymir gestured to her girlfriend.

“Oh… right, sorry… I’m not thinking straight today. Hi, Krista. Hi, Bolt.” He waved to the both of them, showing he was now aware of their presence.

The two waved back at him. “We’ve actually got a bit of a surprise for you… but first, spill,” Krista said.

Eren took a deep breath and began, telling them everything he had been thinking about before they’d arrived. He told them what happened between him and Mitabi that triggered the whole thing. He told them how he was still thinking about the fight in the alley.

“Wow… I'm sorry you're going through that,” Bolt said sympathetically, after he’d finished.

Eren sighed. “Thanks, man.”

“Well,” Ymir started, “it sounds to me like you need to get your own mind right before you do anything else.”

“What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with me.”

“Oh yeah? You want a translation of that whole story? ‘Cause here's what I heard: ‘I’ve had it pretty hard, and everything around me stinks, but I finally managed to find a flower in a field of weeds! Only he’s so beautiful and accepting, he's got to be too good to be true, so I’m just going to lie in wait for somebody to muck it up so I can go back to being a hedonistic nihilist in peace.’”

“That's not funny, Ymir,” Eren shot back, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that what she said wasn't exactly that far off the mark.

“It wasn’t supposed to be. I was going for true.” She leaned in close to him, so they were nose-to-nose. “Listen, Eren… we’ve been friends for three years now. And in all that time, I’ve watched you turn pushing people away into an Olympic sport. The only people you’ve ever even bothered getting close to beyond partying and the occasional binge drinking have been us. Pretty much any other time someone tries to get close to you beyond the superficial, you shut down or walk out on them. Now here’s a guy who’s ready and willing to let you in and get to know who you are, you were doing great, and now you’re thinking about ghosting again. But if you think I’m going to stand quietly by and watch you throw this in the shredder, think again.”

“Alright, fine. Say I let this happen. Say I stay with Armin. What happens if it does go wrong, huh? What am I going to do if _he's_ the first to torch it? What are _you_ going to do?” He glowered at her, a challenge in his eyes.

“The same thing I’ve always done. Be there for you. We’ll go out for drinks, you’ll badmouth your ex, we’ll swing by my place for Chinese food and Netflix, and you’ll move on. You know why? Because the world isn't going to grind to a halt just because you got hurt. It's just gonna keep moving on without you. Same thing with your boyfriend. You start withdrawing now, and he’ll think you're not really interested and give up, and then you’re just going to use that as an excuse to lock yourself away again. There's no way I'm gonna watch you do that to him or to yourself.”

He hated how Ymir made everything sound so much simpler than it actually was. “I don't know if I could ‘just move on.’”

“I think you could.” He jumped; somewhere during the conversation, Krista had managed to move directly to his left without him noticing. “All you would have to do is forgive yourself. Honestly, you still have to do that.”

“... what do I have to forgive myself for? I didn't do anything!”

“But you keep _treating_ yourself like you did. Eren, you're harder on yourself than anybody I've ever met. You always act like you're mad at yourself about something, and you hold grudges easily. You have to let all that go if you're going to heal.”

“She's right, you know.” Bolt nodded sagely as he spoke. “It's like you keep drinking poison and expecting the people you're mad at to die.”

“That's not… it's not that easy, okay?! I just… don't want to feel like that again.” His final words trailed off.

Ymir clapped both of her hands on his shoulders, squeezing tightly, as though she were bracing him to the ground, keeping him from floating into the air. “Eren. Life is pain. You just get used to it.” She stared him down. You're not supposed to run away from it. If you were to accidentally burn your hand touching your oven, you wouldn't just avoid going anywhere near the oven ever again… that'd be stupid. You’d just avoid doing whatever stupid thing you did that got your hand burned in the first place.”

“That's already what I'm doing.”

“No you're not. You're not preventing the burn. You're running from the oven.” She released him then. “Start trusting yourself a little more. You know more about what you're doing than you think, so give yourself some credit and take the plunge.”

He looked Ymir in the eyes, his glare already fallen away. On one level, the things Ymir was saying felt like the truth, and yet… he sighed, pressing his back further into the wall, and let his head loll to the side.

“I don't know, guys… I mean, I guess you're right, but… I don't know.”

“Maybe our surprise will help a little.” Krista grinned slyly.

Ymir shot her a conspiratorial smirk of her own. “You know, it very well just might.”

Eren cocked his head suspiciously. “What exactly is this ‘surprise?’”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Ymir held out her hand. “If you please, Kris.”

Krista began fishing through the messenger bag she was wearing, until she found a small brown package with writing all over. She handed this package to Ymir, who passed it on to Eren.

Eren took it, turning it over multiple times. “What's this?”

“You kinda have to open it to find out, Eren,” Krista said, rolling her eyes in amusement. “That's how presents work.”

He held up the package, raising an eyebrow, before he pulled apart the twine and tore open the paper.

“... a Kindle?” 

“Right… it's not new or anything, but it's still in great shape. There's a book I downloaded on there I think will help you. If it doesn't make you believe it's okay to open up, nothing will.”

He held the screen up to his face, staring at his own skeptical reflection on the darkened screen. He wasn't sure how exactly a book was help him with any of this, but it couldn't hurt to at least take a look at it.

“I guess I can check it out. Which one is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That line Ymir uses on Eren ("life is pain")? It's from The Long Kiss Goodnight. When I first saw that movie, the truth of that statement hit me like a brick.
> 
> Since I haven't said it in a while, I'd like to once more thanks everyone who has read this story so far, everyone who's stuck around to read it, everyone who kudos-ed, and everyone who commented. Special mention to all the commenters, because I may or may not re-read every one this fic ever got to keep me going. XD But I love all my readers, you're all beautiful people and I thank the rock gods for your existence. <3
> 
> Title is from Pieces by Icon For Hire.


	32. We're Gonna Fight for Us, Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, enough filler... here's some PLOT!!!
> 
> Sorry for the chapter delay this time. Stuff happened. ^^" The most relevant of said stuff is writer's block and trying to force a plot line that wouldn't fit. No more of that.
> 
> And now for me to shut up and let you read.

“Uh, hey Armin.” Jean spoke as he fell into stride alongside me. It was the day before we were to go to the karaoke diner with Mikasa and Eren, and we were in the school hallways, headed for our respective classes.

“Hi Jean,” I greeted him back.

“Yeah, so… I still don't think we do enough friend stuff.”

“Does it matter? I mean, I consider you a friend.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I still don't really feel like it. We rarely hang out outside of band practice.”

Well, that was true… “I just don't really know what to do with you. I mean, other than music, we don't really have a lot in common.” Really, what would an “emo” geek and a former jock have to talk about, anyway?

Jean smiled slyly. “You wanna bet?” I stared at him, confused. “In one of your old songs, The Pride Before the Crash, I thought your metaphor was way too thinly veiled. I could tell you were comparing me to Cintiella from a mile away. I’m glad you decided against having me raped, though… that would have sucked.”

I blinked, taken aback. Aside from the fact that Jean figured out the song was about him… “You read folktales?”

Jean nodded. “And mythology. I just find the storytelling and the plots really cool, you know?”

“Yeah… I kinda like the metaphors and stuff, though. It's fun to me to try and figure out what the writer was trying to talk about or if the story was some kind of commentary. Sometimes it turns out to just be a fun story, and that can be a pleasant surprise.”

“Weird, that actually sounds like fun. Will you tell me what you found one day?”

I smiled. “I’ll be sure to.”

“What, is Legout your boyfriend now, Kirshtein?"

We both turned to see Tobias behind and diagonally across from us, a disgusted scowl twisting his face.

“Great, it won't be long before somebody's calling you two by one of those lame cutesy couple names. I can't believe I used to hang out with you; look how far you've fallen.”

I prepared myself to push back, to deny Tobias's words and talk back… I had expected Jean to do the same, so what he did instead more than surprised me.

“Funny, when it happened, it didn't feel a thing like falling,” he said, grabbing my hand. “It felt more like floating, really.”

“Seriously?!” Tobias and I said in unison, in two completely different tones of voice.

“Yeah, seriously. Maybe one day you'll know what it really feels like if you stop being so shallow.”

“What did you just say?” Tobias looked as though steam were about to come from his ears.

“You heard me. You wasted four years of your life feeding your ego and strutting around like the big man on campus. You made friends with people based on some shallow social status, or because they made you feel superior, and you made fun of people for the most petty things… you never had a true friend in your life, have you?”

Tobias stiffened. “Y-you better take that back…”

“It's true, isn't it?” Jean said, with mock pity. “You must be really lonely. I feel sorry for you.”

“You… you little…!” Tobias charged at Jean, roaring with anger; Jean sidestepped him, grabbing the back of his head and smashing his face against a wall. Tobias shouted, falling to his knees and clutching his face.

“Obviously you forgot I could beat you in a fight. Come on, Armin, we have classes to get to.” He tugged me gently away from Tobias by the hand, but stopped for just a moment and addressed Tobias over his shoulder. “By the way, if you ever mess with my friend again, Mikasa's not gonna be the only one you have to worry about.”

“You're gonna pay for this, Kirshtein,” Tobias called back from the floor. “You and your little boyfriend are gonna be sorry.”

Once we were around a corner and away from Tobias, I let out the laughter I had been holding in since Jean started his act. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

He grinned playfully. “Trust me, if it involves pissing somebody off, I did it. Especially if they were asking for it.”

“You… you're a real piece of work,” I said, finally regaining my composure.

“Thankfully, humor’s one of my strong points. Guess it kind of makes up for the narcissism and being a jerk.”

His statement about my old songs suddenly flashed in my head. “Oh, actually… sorry about the mean songs. I guess I misjudged you.”

Jean waved a hand dismissively. “I should be the one apologizing. It's pretty easy to ‘misjudge’ somebody when they help other people bully you.” He shrugged off his backpack and began to rifle through it. “I don't know if I really ever made up for all that properly, so I got you a peace offering, just as a start.” He retrieved a small, square object from his bag and handed it to me. “I hope it's okay… I still wasn't totally sure what you’d like.”

I took a glance at the gift. It was an Avenged Sevenfold album. I smiled; I actually was fine with Avenged Sevenfold. “It's great. Thanks, Jean.”

Jean smiled back. “That's great, then.”

 

“Damn that Tobias.”

We were in the karaoke diner, and had just placed our orders. Jean suddenly spoke while we were waiting for our food to come back. Eren tilted his head. “Who in God’s name are you talking about?”

“Tobias, the dude that goes to school with us. I think Armin said you met him.”

“Oh, the twerp. What do you wanna bring him up for?”

“He was picking on me and Armin yesterday for talking to each other, and now because of him, I'm trying to think up a portmanteau ship name that doesn't sound ugly. The only one I’ve got is Jearmin, but I know there's gotta be another one.”

I started to laugh at the memory. Eren pulled me closer to himself, glaring at Jean.

“Portmanteau with somebody else, Kirshtein. Armin's with me.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Relax, Wonderboy, I’m not after your man. Not that I couldn't totally have him,” he said, staring slyly at me.

I sighed, exasperated. “Jean, cut it out. Eren looks like he's going to strangle you in the next four seconds.”

“Three,” Eren growled.

“Oh, fine. You're such a wet blanket sometimes.” He looked Eren straight in the eyes. “You have nothing to worry about, Armin and I are just friends, I don't even swing that way.”

“You’d better not,” Eren grumbled.

As we waited for our food, and even as we ate our lunch, Eren and Mikasa together regaled us with stories of their childhood. Many of them seemed to involve Eren doing something naughty and Mikasa either keeping watch or punishing him or reporting to their parents, depending upon how harmful or illegal the action was. Occasionally Mikasa herself would join in, according to a few tales, and sometimes Eren would brush the dust off a story of troublemaking which Mikasa was not present for, and which he probably would have been punished for if she had. Those did not make Mikasa happy.

After lunch, we all had a turn at the karaoke machine. Eren and I sang a few duets together, as well as a couple each on our own. I found Eren had a beautiful voice, smooth and gravelly. I made a note to try and convince him to at least sing backup for the band. Jean belted out a few AWOLNATION songs and one Nickelback number (“ugh, he was doing so well, and then he had to go and ruin it,” Eren commented in disgust), and Mikasa went with a tune by Lady Gaga.

“You didn't seem like the type to listen to Lady Gaga,” Jean said to her, surprised, when she stepped off the stage.

Mikasa shrugged. “She's okay. Do you like her as well, Jean?”

Jean averted his eyes. “She has a few songs I like…”

“Judging from the way you kept fanboying every time somebody picked one of her songs, I’d say you like the whole damn album,” Eren said slyly.

“... excuse you, I do not ‘fanboy,’” Jean shot back, slightly flustered. “Just because you can't keep your extremities in one place if you so much as catch a single note of Silverstein doesn't mean the rest of us lack self-control.”

“Better that than being five seconds from pissing my pants and squealing like a gum-smacking tween.”

“Please, that's your kind of move.”

“Oh really? Well, I think me and my cell phone’s camera have a different memory than you do.”

Jean's eyelids shot wide open. “You recorded me?!”

“Yep. And I think maybe I should let this entire restaurant know exactly how much you love Lady Gaga.”

“Eren Yeager, don't you even dare think about it!”

“Too late, _Jean Kirshtein,_ ” Eren said in a mocking tone. He then addressed the diner. “Hey everyone, do any of you want to see something funny?”

Before Eren could do anything, he took off running, laughing maniacally, as Jean had launched himself at him.

“Yeager, if you don't delete that video right now, I'm kicking your ass from here to Staten Island!”

“The only thing that scares me about that statement is that your freakishly long bird legs could cross that river in one step!”

I found myself laughing at their antics. Mikasa rolled her eyes, smiling fondly, before following the two out of the diner. I followed her lead, tossing some cash on the table for the bill as I went.

 

“Eren, would you please tell me what this is about?”

It was the night after we’d all hung out together. Eren had invited me to spend more time with him, as he said he had something to show me. As such, I was at that time blindfolded and being led by the hand somewhere. Before that, he had driven me to wherever this was on his motorcycle, blindfolded the entire time.

“It's not a surprise if I just up and tell you, Armin. What fun would that be?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn't be terrified of tripping on something and falling off a high-rise because I can't see.”

“Now you know I wouldn't let that happen to you.”

“It's not about you ‘letting’ me fall, it could just happen.”

“Not with me here. Sure you can't see, but I can. That's the important thing-- there's still a pair of eyes watching.” He tugged me gently. “Now just trust me, okay?”

He continued to lead me to wherever he was going, not saying a word still. To try and calm down my apprehension, I tried instead to imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I couldn't think of a single thing, however.

Finally, we stopped in front of what felt like some kind of metal gate. I felt him start to untie the blindfold.

“Bet you’ve never stopped to appreciate this. I know I haven't as often as I'd have liked.”

The cloth fell from my eyes, and I blinked and stared out straight ahead.

“We're at a shoreline gate?” Eren nodded. “What so special about that?”

“Look closer. Take a deep breath too.”

I looked out at the creek again, looking around at everything, trying to see what it was he wanted to show me. There was a full moon out, illuminating the surface of the water, the ripples creating tiny diamonds from the reflected light. Up above, the stars winked down at the earth from the navy blue sky. Nothing was on the water save for a single small boat bobbing lazily past, and so the water went practically untouched. Taking a deep breath, the smell of salt water filled my lungs.

I understand now.

“It's amazing.”

“Now you get it.” I wasn't looking at him, but I could hear his smile. “Enough to take your breath away, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Eren lean over the edge of the fence, looking down into the water. “I love to do stuff like this when I'm upset. It really helps me a lot.”

I turned to him. “Then why are you always so sad all the time?” I said, surprised.

It was when Eren's eyelids shot up, and then drooped, that I realized what I’d done. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that…”

Eren shook his head, saying nothing. I tried another tactic. “For what it's worth, I admire that you're able to do that.”

“Huh?”

“I like how you can notice little things like this… I would never have seen it if you hadn't pointed it out. Thank you.”

A small smile, and he closed his eyes. “I’m glad you liked it. I can't take all the credit, though… Ymir and Krista taught me how to appreciate this kind of stuff.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… before I met them, I was worse off than I am now.”

“... how bad was it?” I murmured.

“It's not something I like to remember.”

“I understand. It must have been hard for you out there.”

“A little. I'm glad I met those two, though. I don't know what I would have done with myself if I hadn't.” He said it fondly, with a hint of nostalgia.

“I’m glad they were there for you,” I smiled. “It's nice to know you had someone on your side that whole time.”

He nodded softly. “ Yeah. I think so too.”

For a little while, the both of us remained silent, just taking in the view. It really was a wonderful experience-- I found myself absorbed in those moments, my fears and my cares being washed away into the water, dissolved by the moonlight.

“Oh, yeah, about your question… it doesn't just magically go away.”  
“Huh? What doesn't?”

“The pain. You asked me earlier why I'm still depressed even though I find joy in small things.” I started to protest and apologize, but Eren raised his palm, stopping me. “It's fine. I think you need to hear it, anyway.” He rummaged through his pockets until he found a crumpled, nearly empty pack of cigarettes. Shaking one out, he pulled it out with his teeth, put the package away, and replaced it with a book of matches, one of which he used to light up.

“Just because you're happy with something in the moment doesn't mean all the crap you ever went through-- or are going through-- gets miraculously erased,” he began, after taking a drag. “It's impossible to be happy all the time-- if nothing ever bothered you, then that would mean you're a robot or a sociopath. And it's not that easy to just ‘let it go’ either, especially since nobody ever really teaches you _how_ to let it go. Once it's there, it will always be a part of you.”

That… was not really that inspiring. It was actually kind of depressing. “You mean… we’re going to be this way forever? We're never going to be free?” 

“No. It doesn't mean that. It only means that our demons will never really die. We can fight them, control them-- hell, even dance with them-- but we will never, ever kill them. But that doesn't mean we have to let them imprison us.” 

I turned to him. His eyes were fixed contemplatively on the horizon. “But if we can't eliminate them, how can we be free?” 

“We can push back. It's not eliminating your pain that makes you free; it's accepting it, and choosing to not believe whatever it says about you. It can say whatever it wants about you, but that doesn't mean you have to internalize it. You choose your own reality, so you have to make it one that serves you and gets you what you want. Besides, you’ve already got enough people gunning for you… you don't need to be aiming for yourself.” 

I turned my gaze back to the river, watching the water distort the moon’s illumination. Objectively, what Eren said wasn't _wrong,_ and yet… I wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

“You probably don't fully understand yet. I know it took me a while to get that concept, too.”

“How long, exactly? If you don't mind, that is…" 

He took a drag, blew the smoke from his mouth. “Nearly five years, two drunk driving collisions, and that night you and Mikasa found me trying to eat Uncle Keith's gun.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“It's not an easy lesson to learn. Nor is it an easy sell when you do. But when you finally get there, the best part is that you get to be happy on your own terms. Once you've dismissed all the crap your mind is feeding you and find the truth, it leads you straight to hope.” He sent me a pointed look, with a sly grin. “Isn't that why you named your band the way you did?” 

I stiffened at that. “W-What way?” 

“Hope Inside Truth. That's what the name means, right?” 

I gripped tightly to the railing. “Yes. But… I didn't come up with the name.” My voice dropped to a murmur at the next words. “Marco did. And Mikasa…” 

_“Armin. You should take a break.”_

_“I can't, Mikasa. I'm not going to get any breaks in college, and I’m not going to get them on tour.” I continued dragging my pencil across the paper, occasionally peeking over into my math textbook._

_“You've been working all day already. Tiring yourself out isn't going to make it any better.”_

_I need to memorize all this for my make-up test. This is my worst subject.” The lead snapped off my pencil, flying to some random corner of the room. “Damn it!” In what was likely a perfectly horrible idea, I snapped the pencil in half and threw it across the room._

_“You're stressing yourself out too much. Just take a short break…”_

_“I told you, there are no breaks in college! Dad already told me that! I failed this test last week, and if I keep failing, I’ll never get into college, and I’ll never get out of here! And if I slack off in college, I’ll feel like a failure, and god knows what Dad’s going to do! I can't afford to stop right now!”_

_Her answer to this rant was to stare at me for about a minute before picking me up and throwing me over her shoulder._

_“Aaaahhh! Mikasa, put me down!”_

_“No. We're going to Marco's place. You're taking a rest.” I started to protest, but Mikasa spoke right over what I was starting to say. “Resting is not the same as slacking off. You're not going to do any better on your test if you overwork yourself and pass out in the middle anyway.”_

_Five blocks and three failed escape attempts later, we were in front of Marco's door. Mikasa gave it three raps._

_“Just a minute!” A muffled banging, like a chair on carpet, and then the door opened._

_“Hey Mikasa! What brings you?” A pause. “Oh, he passed out from stress again?”_

_“No,” I responded. “She just dragged me over here.”_

_He let out a small cough, like he was holding back a laugh. “It's really not funny.”_

_“Sorry, Armin… I just…” He snorted once more before inviting us in, whereupon Mikasa finally released me, depositing me in a chair._

_Marco's face appeared in front of mine. “Have you been getting enough sleep, Armin?"_

_“I don't need sleep.” I turned away from him, sulking._

_He took my face in his hands, turning my head so I was looking him in the eyes. “Armin, becoming a workaholic isn't going to improve your performance. It could wind up killing you.”_

_“That would at least be one thousand ninety-five less days I’d have to wait to be free.”_

_“You don't really mean that…”_

_“Yes I do!”_

_“Armin, I know you want to please your father, but a degree isn't worth your health…”_

_“It's not about a degree! I'm sick of being at home! I can't take it there anymore. I can't take the pressure and I can't take school and I can't make this band work because I'm scared of my dad and we don't even have a name…” I cast my eyes downward, my breath becoming ragged. “I just… I can't do this anymore.”_

_“Yes you can. You're alive now; that proves you can handle it.”_

_“Yeah, I'm alive, but I’m barely breathing… you wouldn't say that I could lift 300 pounds if I only barely got the barbell off the floor.”_

_“Is that really what you want to believe?”_

_“It's the truth! What's there to believe?”_

_Mikasa drew closer to me then. “I don't think you know what the truth is.”_

_“What?”_

_“You don't really know the truth. You just keep believing all the criticism you get, and you internalize it. On top of that, every time something bad happens, you immediately blame it on yourself. You don't really have an objective view of the truth.”_

_“Fine, if you know so much, what is the truth?”_

_“The truth is, life hasn't been kind to you. All you’ve ever really known is cruelty. That's because this world is a cruel place. There are people who want to hurt you, and justify it by making up excuses as to why you deserved it.”_

_“That's not really that comforting.”_

_“Because that's not the part that's supposed to be comforting. The comforting part is that, no matter how cruel the world is, it can also be beautiful. But in order to find the beauty, you have to fight through the lies and find the truth. Once you do that, no matter how cruel it turns out to be, you can find hope inside even the most brutal of truths.”_

_Marco suddenly gasped. “What's the matter, Marco?” Mikasa asked him._

_“Mikasa, you're a genius!”_

_“How so?”_

_“You know how we’ve been trying to come up with a band name for ages? You just said one!”_

_Mikasa quirked an eyebrow. “Hope Inside Truth… that's the perfect name for us!” Marco exclaimed. “I mean, everything you just said… that's the whole point of our band. Turning ugliness into beauty. Pain into art. A name like this will tell all our listeners what were about… and maybe remind us too.” He smiled at me as he said that._

_“What will any of that matter if our music isn't going anywhere?”_

_“It will. I promise.”_

My body had finally relaxed, but not in a good way: I was slumped against the barrier, my head down and facing the water. Eren had sidled a little closer. “That was a nice story.” 

“I should have listened to him,” I whispered sadly, not truly responding to Eren's statement. “I shouldn't have taken him for granted.” 

There was a pregnant pause. At first I thought Eren wouldn't say anything else. 

I felt his hands on my shoulders, and he spun me gently around to face him. “From what you’ve told me about him, he wouldn't want you to keep blaming yourself for this. It's not like it's going to bring him back.” 

I sighed. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“Hmm…” Eren regarded the sky thoughtfully, tapping his cheek with a finger. “Well… for now, you could dance.” 

??? “Dance?” 

“Yeah. Like back at that party. I wouldn't mind dancing with you again, if you don't.” 

“Eren, how is dancing supposed to help any of this?” 

“It doesn't. But it’ll make a great distraction until you find an actual solution.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Sometimes it's healthy to just forget for a while." 

I didn't argue any further. I could have if I’d wanted to, but the idea of dancing with Eren again was far too appealing in that moment. The thought of being held by him, pressed close against each other, swaying to the music… it was enough to re-elevate my mood right there. 

“Are we going ambient, or do you have something in mind?” 

“I think I have something we can use. Do you have headphones?” 

I fished in my jeans pocket and found a set of earbuds, which I handed to him. He retrieved his own headphones, as well as a splitter, and plugged both sets into the two jacks before plugging the splitter into his phone. He handed me my earbuds, which I stuck in my ears. Eren repeated the action before choosing our song. The haunting first notes of Black Hole Sun filled my ears. 

Soon after he had chosen our song and put his phone away, Eren took my hand in his and held it up, wrapping my other arm around his waist with his free hand. 

It was even better than it had been that night. There was no tension, no one watching, no one to impress… it was just me and Eren, pressed up close against each other, swaying to Soundgarden’s hypnotic guitars and drums. I stared into his eyes nearly the entire time, unable to tear my own away from that damn oceanic color. Eren didn't seem to mind-- his eyes remained gentle even as they fixed themselves upon me. 

At some point, I nuzzled into his shoulder as we danced. Eren simply pressed his free hand softly against the back of my head, stroking my hair. I closed my eyes, sinking into the feeling of his hand in my hair, my mind relaxing into a gentle waking slumber. 

Even as I made my way home that night, my body still swayed to music which had long ago ended, the corners of my mouth still pulled upwards just so. I felt completely high-- not even in the clouds, but completely out of this stratosphere. Not even in this planet’s orbit. I was drifting freely and openly through the stars, beyond even this planet’s supercluster, close enough to the edge of the universe to touch it, and nothing and nobody could bring me back. 

_  
_

“Armin Arlert. I need to have a talk with you. _Now._ ”

It was clear that my father was angry about something. No matter: it couldn't have been anything I couldn't handle. Besides, I was still floating in the vastness of space-- I was sure I would be able to remain calm in the face of whatever it was he had to say. 

I rose from my chair in the kitchen and went into Dad’s office. “Yes, Dad?” 

“Care to explain what _this_ was doing in your backpack?” 

_Boom._

I exploded in mid-drift. I became scattered into space junk, floating into little pieces all over. 

My father was holding my Avenged Sevenfold CD up to my face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit it-- I probably write too many flashbacks. ^^"""
> 
> Y'all liked the last dancing scene so much, I just had to squeeze in another one for you guys. (Honesty, though, it was a little bit for me, too. I loved writing it.)
> 
> There is a Taking Back Sunday and a Story Of The Year reference. Props to whoever catches them. ;)
> 
> Marco's statement about turning pain into art? Reference to the title of Ariel Bloomer's (Icon For Hire singer) self-help book. It's actually really helpful.
> 
> Title is from Not Gonna Die by Skillet.


	33. Screaming At The Ones We Love, Like We Forgot Who We Can Trust

My breath caught in my throat. My heart started to palpitate. I couldn't believe he’d gone through my bag-- how could he do that?!

“Y-you went through my bag?!”

“I obviously should've done it years ago, if you’ve been carrying around violent, mindless drivel like this. I wanted to think that whoever had called me was lying about what was in there. Apparently I can't trust you as much as I thought.”

_Someone called him?!_ Who could have known about what was in my bag? His words hit me like a knife to the chest, but I had to remain calm. I had to. 

Somehow.

“Dad... I can explain--”

“That will not be necessary,” he snapped, silencing me. The tension was threatening to pull up every single thing I had ever eaten in the past two weeks and send them back the way they came. “I already understand. When you told me you were out studying to get into Harvard, you were really hanging about in some filthy nightclub with a pack of guttersnipe.”

“That's not--”

“It was that Yeager boy Louise showed up to the country club with, wasn't it? I should have trusted my own instincts in the first place; I knew he was a no-good wastrel.”

“Dad, he's not like that--”

“ _I_ am speaking, Armin. You will listen when I am talking to you.”

“But Dad--!”

_“I told you not to talk over me!”_ Dad’s glower was intense, burning. “Didn't I tell you to stay away from this trash?! Didn't I?!”

_“It's not trash!”_ I shouted, angry and desperate. “It's good music, and it makes me happy! Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it doesn't have any merit! Why can't you just understand that?!”

The answer to this question was the back of his hand against my cheek.

“Don't _ever_ speak to me like that again.” He drew just slightly closer, and I fought against the fear that lodged itself in my throat. “I don't know who you got this from, but I had better not see anything else like it again. You are to sever ties immediately with whoever put this garbage into your hands. Do you understand me?”

My heart was screaming at me to say “no.” To push back against him. Everything in me wanted to tell him off, call him out-- _that is enough! I’ve been putting up with your criticism for too long! I'm already eighteen, you can't choose my friends or my life for me anymore!_

I opened my mouth…

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“From today on, you are grounded for two weeks. You are not to go anywhere else after school except home. I will call and make sure you comply.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeated, my voice shaking.

“Armin Arlert, you had better not be crying.”

I shook my head. I wasn't crying; I was only standing precariously on the edge of doing so. I wasn't actually going to.

“Good. You are not a little boy anymore. You need to learn to give up this childish sense of rebellion. If you want to throw away the life I worked hard to give you, then you should go and live with whatever hooligans you call your ‘friends’ and see if they put up with you.” He tossed my CD into the trash can. “Now go to your room; I don't want to see your face anymore.”

I obeyed, my movements stiff and sluggish. I ascended the stairs to my room mechanically, and went in after making my way to the door.

When I had shut the door and locked it, I yanked my cell phone from my pocket, hands shaking, and dialed Eren's number. I had to talk to someone. I needed help.

I listened to the dial tone ringing, waiting to hear Eren's voice…

_“The person you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message after the--”_

I hung up the phone and immediately tried again. 

And again. 

And again.

After the fifth time, I gave up. Eren obviously wasn't picking up. I turned my attempts to Mikasa. Mikasa usually picked up when I called. She would this time, too.

I hoped.

_“Please leave your message for--”_

I slid the phone away from my ear and shut down the call. No. This couldn't be… maybe she didn't hear the phone. Yeah. Maybe. I tried again.

Nothing.

I stumbled over to my bed and collapsed into it, burying my face in the pillow.

Okay.

My father wasn't watching.

_Now_ I could cry.

 

I sleepwalked my way through school the next morning.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

I spent every last one of those days avoiding my bandmates. I would run away from Eren when he came to pick me up from school. I would lock Mikasa out of the house every day when I got home. I would avoid Jean in the hallways. All three called me repeatedly-- Eren after two or three days. I ignored every one.

After school, I’d lock myself in my room, curled up on my bed, fighting to calm my breathing. If I thought I could get away with it, I would hide my phone between my head and the pillow, listening to music just loud enough for only myself to hear. If not, my only remaining option was to stay awake all night, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I couldn't use Eren's hoodie anymore; the scent only brought me close to tears.

I went nearly an entire week like this, floating through my days like a ghost, keeping everyone at arm's length. I felt completely numb, as though I had taken an entire bottle of morphine. My brain barely processed anything at all, concepts dissolving as soon as they arrived. 

Only one thought ever managed to penetrate the fog in my brain.

_Someone told my father._

Who could it have been? There was only one person who knew about the CD… but why would he tell? Was he planning on destroying the band? But he was in it too… if my father forced me out, then it would all be over.

_No it wouldn't, you self-satisfied twit. The band doesn't_ need _you to stay together… they're clearly planning on replacing you._

But why? Why would they do that?

_Obviously it's because they finally realize you're a failure and a spineless coward. Look at how you let your father walk all over you. Why didn’t you stand up to him?! If this is the way you react now, then when he finds out about the band, there’s no hope for you. What are you going to do, just cower down and give up? You’re a lost cause. Mikasa would be grateful to finally be rid of you. You haven't even taken the band far enough to get signed anyway. You're just holding everyone back._

I would have fought back against that voice, but what was the point? I had just proven it right last night, hadn’t I? I’d had the opportunity to stand up to my father, but instead I caved in, conceded to his demands. I barely even tried to argue.

How was I supposed to make this band work if I couldn’t even fight for myself?

It was true about the band's career, too. We were doing fairly well for an up-and-coming unsigned band, but we were by no means huge. No record label had even looked at us. 

I was sure that by now, we would have hit it big. I wouldn't have had to prove anything to my father anymore. I wouldn't have had to prove anything to anyone.

Instead, I had nothing. I was completely empty-handed.

My efforts were nothing but a waste of time.

_I_ was nothing but a waste of existence.

_And they knew… didn't they? They all knew I’m a waste, and they stuck around… why?_

Was I just a charity case to them?

 

“What the hell, Armin?” Eren said when he finally managed to stop me after school, blocking my path with his bike. 

I scowled up at him. “Get out of my way.”

“Not until I get some answers. How come you’ve been ghosting us all week?”

“Like you’d care,” I spat.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“Yes you would. You’d just ask me just to say you did. You wouldn't actually listen.”

“What is wrong with you today? When have I not listened to you when you told me something?”

“How about earlier this week?” I shot. “You didn't answer the phone when I actually needed you, didn't call back for three days, but now suddenly you care what I'm going through?”

“I was trying to tell you what happened, I did call back! Why didn't you pick up?”

“Because I didn't want to,” I snapped. “I don't need any of your excuses.”

Eren recoiled, crestfallen, but continued. “Look, I'm sorry I took so long, okay? I actually wanted to tell you something, but I was under some stress that night, and--”

“And you couldn't take two seconds to pick up the phone. I know.”

“It's not like that! I didn't hear the phone ring!”

“Your ringtone is The freaking Safety Fire! What exactly were you doing that you didn't hear a ringtone as loud as yours?”

Eren took a deep breath and let it out, like he was preparing to say something he didn't want to admit. “Well… I got kinda drunk, and...”

“Of course you did!” I threw up my hands. “And you go on about helping me... you can’t even fix your own problems, what could you do about mine?”

He narrowed his eyes. “That was unnecessary to say.”

“Somebody had to. Somebody had to break that stupid hero delusion you’re living under.”

“Wha-- I’m not trying to be some hero! You’re my friend, and my bandmate! Have you got a problem with me trying to support you?!” He had begun to raise his voice again.

“You’re not doing a very good job of it when you can’t even keep yourself together!”

“... I don’t know what you’re on about,” Eren started, clearly making every attempt to calm down, “but all I’m doing is trying to fight on as best I can. Yeah, I’ve got issues, but I keep fighting, because I have to. If I don’t, then I won’t win this war. I won’t see any of the things I want come true. That’s what I’m trying to help you do!”

“Oh, yeah, beautiful job, by the way, it really helps me to have to worry about you trying to kill yourself every time I turn around!”

If I was in my right mind just then, I would wonder why I uttered that statement. Not just uttered, _shouted_ it into his face like it was a knife I was throwing. As it was, I was purely fueled by emotions, and nothing I was saying was anything I actually wanted to say, or should have.

“You have one chance to take that back.” Eren lowered his voice dangerously.

“I should have just let you die,” I spat. Only digging myself deeper.

His expression looked as if I had slapped him in the face. It took me a few moments to realize how badly I had just messed up, and regret it immediately after.

His teeth clenched, his hands balled into fists. It was as if he were ready to punch me right then and there… but he instead spun around so that his back was turned to me.

“Fine… if that's what you really think.” His voice was quiet and tight. He mounted his motorcycle.

“Eren, wait… I’m sorr--”

“I don't want to hear it,” he shot back.

“Eren, I didn't mean any of that--”

“Then why did you say it?!” I flinched when he suddenly shouted. Without waiting for an answer, he turned away. “You know what, I don’t even care. You think I’m that much trouble, fine. You don’t ever have to see me again.” He kicked the engine to gear. “Have a nice life. Better yet, do me a favor and drop dead.” He sped off.

My stomach twisted. My knees weakened, and I dropped to the ground. I felt my pulse quicken, the blood running cold, my heart hammering against my ribcage in a desperate attempt to keep up with the sudden rush.

I couldn't believe what I had done. The way I had spoken to him… as if he were now my enemy. As if I truly hated him.

My eyes began to sting, and I wanted nothing more than to snatch my phone out of my pocket, dial Eren’s number, and beg forgiveness.

But it was too late for that now. Eren surely hated me for the way I treated him. I couldn't exactly blame him.

It was probably for the best. He didn’t really need me anyway. I was just holding him back.

 

I was fortunate-- or unfortunate-- enough to catch a snatch of a conversation even as I stumbled through school the day before my punishment was up. I hadn't changed out any of my textbooks, instead carrying the same one all day.

“It actually worked out?"

“Totally! I thought I messed up when I forgot to plant the grass, but this was even better!”

“So Legout’s dad really tore into him, eh?"

What?

I stepped closer, hiding behind a wall around the corner.

“What exactly happened, Toby?” This was one of Tobias's friends and teammates, Auruo. “Nobody let me in on the whole thing.”

“That's ‘cause you would have blown it.” Another one, Eld, deadpanned the answer. “Everyone knows you suck at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, ‘I dropped the ball’ is practically your catchphrase,” Gunter, the fourth of the group, said.

Auruo clicked his teeth. “I accidentally let slip about that girl once, and I never get to live it down.”

“We might if that was the only time you did it,” Eld spoke again. “That's why we don't tell you anything in confidence anymore.”

“Fine, you want to let me in on it now, though? It's not like I talk to Legout anyway, so there's no risk.”

“Knowing you, the whole thing will find its way to him anyway.”

“Pssh, I can tell him,” Tobias said dismissively. “Even if he tells his dad about it, it doesn't change the fact that he's in trouble. And he’ll insist I did it for Legout’s own good, anyway.” He cleared his throat dramatically.

“So, I called up Mr. Arlert and told him that there was something in his son’s backpack that should concern him. It was supposed to be a bag of weed, but Gunther here forgot to plant it and didn't tell me,” Tobias added a heavy emphasis to the last words.

“Anyway, it turns out Legout was carrying his crap music with him. And he didn't tell Mr. Arlert, who apparently hates that emo-freak noise as much as I do.”

The other three boys howled quietly. “Oh man, that's beautiful,” Auruo said, impressed.

“Oh, yeah… his dad lit into him hard. It was awesome.” Tobias's voice was smug. “And he hasn't got a clue what happened… maybe I should tell him it was Kirshtein. Break up their little gross love affair, maybe they'll decide to be normal.”

“You self-satisfied bastards.”

I revealed myself from behind the wall, glaring at Tobias. They turned around, briefly surprised to see me, before they all laughed.

“Of course I'm satisfied; I finally made you pay for getting me grounded at that dance. ‘Course, if you want more--” he punched the inside of his palm-- “I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“Is your life that boring? You have to ruin other people's lives just because you don't have one of your own?!” My volume escalated with every word.

“You listen to crappy music all day, but I’m the one who doesn't have a life?”

“You're wrong about my music.”

“Oh, really? Here's exactly what you're listening to.” He imitated playing a guitar and made a tortured face. “Grr! _Feelings!_ Grr, _feelings!_ ” A chorus of laughter followed his antics.

“You mad because you don't have any?”

They stopped suddenly, caught off guard by my words. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You think you're so great, but you're nothing but a pathetic, sadistic tyrant who makes other people miserable trying to prove the superiority you think you have.”

He responded by grabbing the front of my shirt and slamming me against the lockers. 

“You sure are feisty today, aren't you?” He sounded less than pleased about that. “Well that was all unnecessary, Legout. Here I am trying to be pleasant, and you thank me by-- _aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhh!!!_ ” I had raised up the textbook, which was still in my hand, and was the heaviest one I owned, and smashed it as hard as I could into Tobias's cheekbone.

Even though he had released me, kneeling to the floor in pain, I still wasn't satisfied. I hit him again, this time in the top of his head. Another swing bashed his jaw, then one to the nose, and the side of his neck. I continued swinging my textbook at every part of him that I could reach, yelling as I did so.

“I hate you! I _HATE_ you! You bullying, narcissistic piece of filth! I’ll kill you!”

I wanted to make him pay for every single day that he had ever caused me pain. Every name he’d called me, every vicious prank he’d pulled, every gang beating he and his friends had ever inflicted-- I wanted every last blow to mean something, to make up for everything he had ever done. I wanted vengeance for every year that I was forced to put up with him.

Unfortunately, this would not come to pass. His friends, initially too shocked, I presume, at my reaction to retaliate, wound up grabbing the back of my shirt and throwing me against the wall hard. I swung my textbook when they came for me; they kicked it out of my hand before I could do any real damage.

“You little bastard!” Auruo stomped on my calf. “You’d better start learning your place!”

I raised my head to him and spat in his face. This earned me a knee in the center of my own face.

After about a minute of being kicked and stomped, Tobias spoke.

“Cool it, guys.” They turned to him. “Legout's a little too feisty today-- I don't think he's going to learn his place if we just kick his ass.” The other three parted to allow Tobias to approach me. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me upwards.

“I think,” he said, producing a bandana from his pocket and shoving it as far into my mouth as it would go, “maybe we should help Mr. Arlert enforce his ban. You know, for his son’s own good!” At the final words, he spun me around and slammed me against the wall, his hand pressed against my back, holding me down.

“Gunther, Eld, get Armin's wrists. And pull his arms up.” It was the first time Tobias bothered calling me by my correct name, and I didn't trust it. The two jocks obeyed their friend. “We're going to make sure Armin _never_ goes against his father again.” He spoke in an overly sweet, threatening voice.

The other three picked up on his meaning, chuckling menacingly. I caught the meaning as well, but I wasn't laughing; I screamed fruitlessly through the gag, fighting to get away. Tobias only pressed his hand harder in between my shoulder blades.

“No need to fight,” Tobias said in my ear, sounding even more threatening than before. “We're helping you make your dad proud. You give up this freak stuff, and it's guaranteed.” He withdrew from me and addressed his crowd. “Let's get started, guys… let's make sure this guy stays the perfect son.”

I felt my arms being pulled backwards. Slowly, but hard, and too far. The pain caused me to scream again, the sound muffled by the bandana. I could tell what they were doing; they weren't going to just dislocate my shoulders and leave me alone-- they were going to drag out the process as long as they could, to maximize the agony…

“Hey.”

They stopped what they were doing and turned around. I did as well, my eyes cloudy.  
I could make out the silhouette of a blonde blob. Blinking the blur out of my eyes, the blob began to take form, and I could make out a white blouse, dark blue jeans, a long nose, a bang over one eye, a cold expression.

“What are you guys doing?” Annie asked them.

They remained silent, paralyzed with fear. Annie and Mikasa were in the same martial arts class, and both were strong, and excellent fighters; however, it was not Annie’s skill, nor her will to use it, that instilled such terror. In spite of her small stature, her entire demeanor suggested quiet aggression, like she would slit your throat in your sleep if you so much as looked at her the wrong way. As of this moment, the boys tormenting me stood frozen, their grip still tight on me, as though waiting for either permission to continue or a cease-and-desist order.

“We're just messing with this guy a little,” Tobias said, attempting a nonchalant voice. “It's all in good fun.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “It doesn't look to me like the subject is having any.”

“Well, he knows we're just playing. You don't see him fighting, do you?”

“I’ll see about that myself.”

“Oh, come on, Annie, he’s just a freak… you were better off when you ditched him, why do you wanna-- OW!” Annie had stomped on his foot, twisting her toes into his.

“I _said,_ I will ask him what he thinks of this.” She strode over to me and pulled the bandana out of my mouth, causing me to cough. “Are you all right?” she said.

“Help me,” I whimpered, my throat dry.

She nodded once and turned to the other boys. “You heard him. Let him go and get out,” she ordered.

They shared a single glance between them before letting me go and getting out. Feeling my arms and back released, I tried to push off the wall, but my shoulders protested, my ribs even more so. Gasping, I collapsed to my knees, causing my stomped on calf to demand my attention.

Annie strode over to me and gingerly pressed my ribs. I hissed and scrunched up my eyes. The same situation repeated itself with my right leg.

“You're hurt. We should go to the nurse.” She grabbed my upper arm to help me stand; I snatched away from her, still a little recalcitrant. She took it again, more firmly this time. “Stop it.”

I didn't try to fight again. Another thing Annie had in common with Mikasa was that she had a way of making people obey her. She draped my right arm around her shoulders and helped me stand up.

“Thank you,” I murmured, as I limped down the hallway with her. She simply nodded in acknowledgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Chapter. Took. FOREVER. I'm embarrassed of how long it took me to write this. But at least it's finally out. Hope you like it. (Okay, actually, I hope you love it and tell your grandchildren about it six decades from now because I have lofty dreams. XD)
> 
> Title is from Go To War by Nothing More.


	34. I Can't Give Enough Of What It Is You Want

“Oh my goodness!” The nurse practitioner said when I arrived at her office, with Annie as my crutch. “What in the world happened to you?”

“Tobias,” I answered bitterly, “what else is new?”

“You poor thing… they really need to do more about that boy than they have.”

“That's what they all say,” I muttered.

She helped me sit down on the examination bed and began her inspection, checking various parts of my body, listening to my lungs, pressing to check for tender areas.

“Yep, looks like you’ve might have a rib fracture. Your leg’s broken for sure.” She gave me an ice pack to press against my side. “I’m keeping you in here until school ends so you can rest safely. Afterwards, you go straight to the hospital.” For a moment, a brief, jaded image flashed into my head of my father scolding me for running into the hospital despite being grounded.

As if I had some sort of partial telepathy, the nurse asked, “do you want me to call your father for you?”

“No!” The panicked shout aggravated my injury and made the nurse jump out of her skin. I hissed and waited for the pain to subside before continuing. 

“Sorry… my dad… he’s at work… I don't want to bother him with this. I can go alone. Please,” I begged.

The nurse looked into my eyes with pity in her own, but nodded once. “If you say so. I’ll fetch you an anti-inflammatory.” The nurse scurried away, leaving me and Annie-- who had remained with me the whole time-- alone in the room.

Silence permeated the air around us. It was as if we were complete strangers, rather than former romantic partners. She didn't even look around when the nurse returned briefly with the anti-inflammatory and left, insisting she would be back to check on me.

I took a glance at her. Her eyes were fixed on the wall across from me. Her gaze was stern, her brow furrowed.

I sighed, looking away. “Why are you still here?” I didn't speak in anger.

“In case you still need help.” She continued to face the wall.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you're not.”

“I am,” I snapped this time.

“You just beat somebody up with a textbook and spat in another one’s face,” she remarked, no longer talking about my physical state. “That is not typical Armin Arlert behavior. It certainly doesn't scream ‘fine.’”

“Maybe I had a reason for that. That's a possibility, you know,” I groused.

“Maybe. But I would have expected you to have more finesse than that. You're more the type to use books as a missile than a blunt force weapon. In fact, you usually try to talk your way out.” 

“Well, that obviously got me nowhere in this school.”

She finally turned her gaze to me this time. “Where do you want to get to? You’ve done more than any kid in this school has.”

“Yeah, like they care,” I sighed.

“Only because you keep it to yourself. If you told the school about your band, a lot of people would think you were cool.”

“I doubt it. I'm not that great.”

“If you ‘weren't that great,’ you and your band wouldn't have played the Tavern four times. They're very selective, you know.”

Actually, I did know. But morever… “How did you know about that?”

A tiny smile. Barely there. “You think I haven't been following the band's progress? Just because I left doesn't mean I'm not interested.”

“Then… why did you leave? If you still care so much about how the band is doing, then why did you walk out like that?”

She didn't respond. I had thought that maybe she wouldn't answer my question.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“What?”

“I’m sorry about what I did. I didn't mean to hurt you, or anyone.”

“No offense, Annie, but you did a terrible job at averting that outcome.” The day she broke up with me and left Hope Inside Truth, it was via a note in my locker reading, _I quit._ When I tried to contact her and get answers, she would ignore my calls, only answering once to say “I'm breaking up with you. Sorry,” and hanging up. Not the best way to keep a guy's feelings intact.

“Yeah. I guess I didn't know how to deal with my own feelings. It wasn't an easy decision to make.”

“Did you have to do it like that? Could you have at least told me why?”

“That was why I had trouble. Whether I explained myself or not, I knew you wouldn't have understood. I wanted to explain, but I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't know what to do.”

“I wish you would've just told me, whatever it was. Not knowing made it worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Could you at least tell me the truth now?” I needed closure. Our breakup had been one of the biggest things weighing on me since it happened.

“I don't think you want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Just say it.”

She blew a sigh upwards, causing her fringe to lift slightly. “I didn't think you were ready.”

 _???_ I tilted my head quizzically.

“I never felt like you really trusted me. Anytime you got upset about something, you’d shut me out like I was a stranger.”

“What did you want me to do, curl up in a ball and whine about everything?”

“No. I just wanted to help you. I knew you were hurting, but you wouldn't let me in.”

I clicked my teeth, skeptical of her words. “You thought your pity was going to save me, then? Good luck with that.” I looked away from her, to stare at my lap. “Nobody can save me.”

“I didn't want to save you.”

“Well, what _did_ you want then?” I snapped my head back to her, my eyes daring her to give me a good answer.

She raised her head, finally looking me in the eyes. “I wanted to help you save yourself. You're always trying to save everybody else, always trying to take care of other people. I always wondered, what if _you're_ the one who needs saving? What if you used all that energy to save yourself instead?” She turned back to the wall. “When I realized I couldn't be what you needed-- that maybe I was just hurting you more-- I left. I couldn't make it worse by staying in the band, so I quit.”

“Oh.” I turned away. “So you gave up on me.”

“Not exactly. I gave up on myself. I gave up thinking I could be enough of what you needed.”

She didn't understand. I _did_ need her back then. I needed her to be there and show me I was loved. I breathed a sigh.

“Honestly, I wish you would have asked me for my opin-- _aaaahhhh!”_ I jumped, as Annie had used quiet-person teleportation to somehow appear directly beside me on the bed, staring impassively into my eyes. I gulped down the following wail that would have accompanied my still-throbbing ribs.

“I really am sorry, Armin. I didn't really want to leave you, but I thought it was for the best. I thought it would help you learn to take care of yourself.”

“Well, you were wrong,” I said, more exhausted than bitter. “I still haven't got a clue what I'm supposed to do.”

“You could try pleasing yourself,” she said. “You always search for approval from other people. Your family, your friends… and you even did it with me. I don't think you’ve ever given a single thought to what you want. You even made Hope Inside Truth all about other people, instead of just you.” She laid a hand on top of mine. “Figure out what _you_ want, and then go and get it.”

“It's not that easy. I can't just do whatever I want at any time. I have to make my father proud somehow. I can't be a failure to him forever. It doesn't matter what I ‘want.’”

“Then why bother touring with a post-hardcore rock band? You think it would make him ‘proud’ to know his son plays gutter music for a living?” She gave me a pointed look. 

“That... that's different…”

“Armin, I know you know that's a nonsense answer. You're more rational than that.”

She was right. That answer made no sense and I knew it. She continued. “You don't need to ask permission to make yourself happy. You can only get that from you.”

“But what if he gets mad at me?”

“Then he’s mad. That's not your problem. If you really want happiness, then take it. I know how resourceful you can be, Armin… use it to take care of yourself once in a while.”

I cast my eyes down to my lap. Her words reminded me of something Eren said to me. A single phrase that stuck with me ever since he said it.

_“If this is what you want, then it has to be a lifestyle…”_

It was such a simple statement. Why was it so hard to do in practice?

A shock ran up my arm as I felt a light brushing against the back of my hand. Upon inspecting it, I found the sensation to be caused by Annie’s index finger. Following her arm back upwards to her face, I locked eyes with her. They had softened considerably, that tiny smile curling her lips once more.

“Annie?”

“I really missed you, Armin. I miss being alone with you like this. I miss talking to you.”

I chose to only answer to the final part of her sentence. “You shouldn't have left, then.” I was unable to summon any more malice.

“I know.” She leaned in closer. I tensed up. “Do you think we can start over? We've both grown so much better since then… I can tell you're different.”

“I… I guess,” I laughed shakily.

“I meant to apologize before. I’m sorry I never got to; Mikasa never let me near you.” I could feel myself steadily weakening the closer she got. A myriad of thoughts raced through my brain at lightning speed as I tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Annie…” I faltered as she gingerly placed a hand to the back of my neck, her other one still on my hand, her face drawing closer to mine.

“I never should have left you,” she murmured, before pressing her lips to mine.

I had, after we had parted ways, dreamed of Annie coming back to me for a long time. It had been a longstanding fantasy during that time that she would change her mind, and we would be together again.

Now here she was, back in my arms, her body flush against mine, pulling me closer, her warmth against me. It was like a dream come true.

Honestly, why _couldn't_ I start over with Annie? I could tell she still cared for me… and I had already lost everyone else. She was all I had left. 

She had been the only person other than Mikasa and Marco who had been kind to me. And she had chosen me to love… out of all the boys she could have had, she had chosen to be with me. Someone who had nothing to give her.

I really did miss him.

The way his ocean green eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

The way the light reflected off his hair.

The golden hue accenting his brown skin.

The way his smile could illuminate an entire room.

The way he looked at me, like I was the only other human being on earth...

I grabbed Annie’s shoulders and pushed her off of me. Not the best decision for my ailing ribcage, anti-inflammatory or no. The shooting pain caused me to groan loudly, clutching my sides. The noise summoned the nurse back into the examination room.

“What in the world are you doing, young man?! Are you trying to hurt yourself more?”

Before I could respond, I heard Annie speak. “It wasn't his fault, ma’am. I tried to pick something up for him, but I stumbled and bumped him. I didn't mean to hurt him.”

“Young lady, you have got to be more careful if you're going to stay here,” the nurse scolded her, handing me another ice pack. “He doesn't need to aggravate those sides.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Tell that to Armin. He’s the one you almost killed.” She retreated once more.

Once the pain had subsided, I opened my eyes and looked up. Annie had this time teleported to the end of the bench, standing in front of me. Her eyes held a twinge of melancholy and confusion.

“Annie… I…” The shock of the revelation I’d just had, as well as the lingering discomfort from my ribs, arrested my speech. “I… I'm sorry. I can't…”

“You're in love with someone else. You’ve moved on,” she guessed. 

I nodded. “Yes.”

She hummed her understanding. “It's your cellist.”

?! “How do you…?”

“I told you I’ve been watching the band. I went to a few of your shows.”

“But… I dyed my hair…”

“I was your girlfriend, Armin,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’d know your face anywhere. Anyway, I watched you onstage, and I noticed the way you looked at him. I wondered if you two were dating. But still, a girl has to try, just in case,” she said, shrugging.

“I… I guess so…?” A few moments of silence. “I’m sorry…”

Annie shook her head. “Don't apologize for how you feel. It's not like you stabbed my dog with a screwdriver or something. I knew you probably wouldn't wait for me forever.” Another pause. “Can we be friends again, at least?”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Yeah. I still miss hanging out with you. Besides, my band’s been looking for a good act to tour with,” she simpered.

I laughed in return. “As long as you don't mind being the opening act.”

“I don't, but I think the other girls might put up a fight.”

“Pssh, I can handle it.” I waved a hand dismissively.

“You're not going to beat them with a textbook, are you?”

“You wound me, Annie. I’d never hit a girl with a textbook. Unless it was the paperback version.”

Annie broke into quiet, light hysterics. “You're a lot funnier than I remember you being. I think your cellist has been good for you.”

“Yeah. I think so too. He…” I paused, as I found myself thinking of Eren. The day we met. When he joined the band. The shows we played together. The things we told each other. The night of that dance. The night we first kissed… 

“He… means everything to me,” I breathed. “I… I’d give him everything if I could.”

Annie raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “You didn't actually acknowledge any of that until just now, did you?”

You know what? No. I had not fully acknowledged all of that until just then. I shook my head, stunned.

“Have you told him?”

“I… um… sort of…” I hadn't told him in words, but… I mean, we were dating, and we’d kissed… surely that meant he knew… right?

She hummed in affirmation. “Then you didn't tell him.”

“Well… not in words, no. But… it's not that it matters now…” I stared at the floor again.

“What happened?”

“I… my dad grounded me, and… I got mad. I said some really awful things…”

Silence.

“Did you apologize?”

“I tried, but… he wouldn't listen to me…”

“Make him.”

My eyes widened, nonplussed and taken aback. _How am I supposed to make him?!_

“You know what I said about going after what you want? This is your chance.” Annie replied to my unspoken concerns. “You said you love him, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then tell him what you told me. If you feel so powerfully, then he should know that. If you want him to forgive whatever you did, let him know.”

“I… I can't. What I did… I can't be forgiven…”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. He hates me.”

That tiny smirk again. “You really shouldn't make other people's decisions for them. If I had done that, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Before I could properly process that statement, she turned to the door. “I should get back to class. I guess I'll see you around.” She left the room.

I had a few more minutes to ponder her words after she walked out. I tried imagining myself apologizing to Eren. How would I even begin? _Sorry I told you I wish you were dead, but it's only because I'm head-over-heels in love with you, so I took all my problems out on you?_ Yeah, way to sound like a domestic abuser.

I wanted to follow Annie's advice. I really did. She wasn't wrong… and yet… 

How was I supposed to speak to him after what I said?

I was going to have to work that out later.

Because my train of thought was interrupted by a sudden shouting.

“ARMIN! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm happy with this chapter. I hope you guys like it too. ^_^
> 
> One of my inspirations is a book called Fat Kid Rules The World. It taught me that I should be able to drop a couple of F-bombs in this fic and retain the teen rating. XD (That book is teeming with F-bombs, though it's a young adult novel.) Next chapter we find out who dropped it.
> 
> Title is a lyric from Aisle by The Bunny The Bear.


	35. Said To Myself, I'm So Alone... But I'm Never Alone

I snapped my head up in shock, to confirm the identity of the shouter. Standing in the doorway, his eyes and body language radiating “pissed off,” was Jean.

Actually, “pissed off” might have been an understatement. He was _livid._

I would have run screaming from that look, but with a broken leg and busted ribs, I wasn’t going anywhere. I could only watch in reflexive horror as he marched towards me and grabbed my shirt, pulling my face close to his.

“What the hell have you been thinking, avoiding us for two weeks?! Do you have any idea what we’ve been through out there?! Mikasa and I have been worried sick about you, she’s been crying her eyes out all week ‘cause you’ve been pushing her away; she thought you were going to do something crazy, and Eren's been moping around like a twelve-year-old emo kid! She's under enough stress already! Were you trying to give us both a heart attack or something?!”

_“Mister_ Kirshtein,” the nurse snapped, having returned to the examination room. “What do you think you’re doing to my patient?”

Jean rounded on her. “What?! What do you mean, patient?”

“Like you haven’t noticed you’re assaulting someone with a broken leg and ribs.”

When Jean turned back to me, his eyes were wide, like he really hadn’t noticed. He slowly released my shirt, touching the bruises on my face as though they were a strange artifact he’d just discovered.

“Oh my god… Armin, what happened to you?”

“Don’t try to play stupid,” the nurse snapped. “It’s obvious your friends had a lot to do with this.”

Jean turned back to her. “They’re not my friends. They never were.”

“And yet you sure hang out with them enough. You help them torment other students enough. And now you think you can just waltz in here and attack him right in front of me? You sure have gotten bold, haven’t you?”

“I came here because I'm worried about him!”

“You really think I'm stupid, don't you? You think I don't know that's a euphemism for bullying? You think I don’t remember what you did to this poor boy in the past?”

Jean stiffened at her remark. “That… that’s not who I am anymore. I don't want to hurt him.”

“Once a bully, always a bully. You think you can just show up in my office yelling at Armin and tell me you’ve changed? Well, if you don’t get out right now, I’m going to change the nearest sheet of paper into a note to the--”

“Miss Nifa, wait!” I interrupted her. “He’s telling the truth. He’s not here to bully me.”

She tilted her head skeptically. “Armin, you’re safe in here… I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you. You don’t have to take up for him--”

“I’m not. I mean it. He’s…” I paused, unsure of whether or not to say it. Was I really ready to admit to it? It was a huge commitment to make.

I took a deep breath, let it out. If I was going to help Jean, I was going to have to risk it. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Armin, are you sure you’re not being threatened to say that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Even if he had been, I still wouldn’t have referred to Jean as my “friend” if I didn’t mean it. I don’t use that word lightly.

Miss Nifa still didn't look entirely convinced, but bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I'm going back into the office. One wrong move--” she pointed a threatening finger at Jean-- “and the principal gets to hear all about it.” She retreated from the exam room.

Jean drew closer to me, examining me with the lightest of touches. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

“Tobias,” I said simply.

“My god… He really messed you up this time.” The anger returned to his face. “You shouldn't have been avoiding us like that! We could have stopped this!"

“It doesn't matter.”

“Armin, you have a broken leg, you're covered in bruises, and you're going to tell me it doesn't matter?!”

“What’s done is done. The only thing I can do now is wait for it to heal.”

“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you’d been with me or Mikasa! Why the hell have you been dodging us for two weeks?!”

“Because…” I knew that I had to tell the truth. It would hurt Jean. It would certainly hurt Mikasa, when she heard it. But it was the only option. There was no alternative excuse that would be good enough.

Besides… I was growing tired of lying. I had been lying to everyone all this time about everything. I lied to myself. I lied to Eren out of anger, and it only hurt him. Continuing to lie would only cause more pain.

“Because I’m stupid,” I began. Jean raised an eyebrow.

“Dad grounded me last week. He found that CD you gave me in my bag, and only you knew I had it, so I thought that… well…”

“You thought I set you up.” It wasn't a question. 

“Yes.” I looked him in the eyes, immediately feeling guilty for the hurt behind them. “I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head, huffing a laugh. “I guess I did kinda bring that mistrust on myself. But what about Mikasa? She's never hurt you, and you’ve been friends since god knows when.”

I took another deep breath. “The night it happened, I tried to call her. She didn't answer. So I thought that maybe she finally got sick of me. I thought that… that maybe… you two finally got together and decided to abandon me.” I murmured the last words.

Jean stared blankly at me for a full minute, blinking. When he had finally composed himself, his reaction was not at all what I expected.

He laughed.

He laughed for about as long as he’d just stared at me, doubled over, clutching his stomach, his face in his free hand. When he had finally regained his composure, he spoke.

“Armin… you're really a terrible person, you know that?”

I nodded. That much was self-evident at this point.

“As flattered as I am that you think Mikasa and I make a great couple, you really think she'd throw away her best friend just to be with some guy? I don't see her being that petty.”

“I know. I just-- I wasn’t thinking straight. I was being stupid and selfish, and I took it out on you because I'm jaded. I didn't mean to worry you guys.”

“Well, you sure did a piss-poor job of avoiding it,” Jean said, smirking.

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

“You know, you've really got to figure your stuff out sometime. You want people to prove to you they're trustworthy, but you have to be willing to accept it when they do. Mikasa and I-- Mikasa especially-- can't keep standing around waiting for you to decide to get your goddamn act together. You've gotta start letting people be there for you.”

I lowered my eyes to my lap. “I'm scared,” I murmured in response to him.

Silence followed this exchange, the minutes stretched out through the space between us. It was some time before Jean spoke again.

“Has your dad ever given you that spiel about wants and needs?”

“Huh?”

“You know the one: you can't spend any of your money on fun stuff until you pay bills and buy food and whatever?”

“Yeah, he said that before. Why do you ask?”

“I think it kinda works the same way with people.” A pause. “Did Marco ever tell you how we met?”

I nodded. “You went to the same summer camp when you were kids.”

“Right. He was the only person who would bother talking to me. Everyone else just avoided me. They thought I was just some stuck-up grouch for some reason.”

“Well…” Jean glared at me; I laughed at the face he was making.

“Are you gonna let me finish or not?”

“No one's stopping you.” I motioned for him to continue.

“Anyway, yeah… he started talking to me, and at first I didn't want to trust him, ‘cause everybody liked him, thought he was the nicest guy on earth… I figured, why should he, of all people, want to be friends with the grouse? But he kept on trying to be my friend, and I ended up opening up to him. We were inseparable after that.

“Everything changed when we got to middle school. That was when I met Tobias.” He laughed bitterly. “Biggest mistake of my life, letting him talk to me. I should've told him to go away… but I kept talking to him, and he started telling me how he thought I was cool and he wanted to be friends. I went ahead and decided to be friends with him, and then I found out he was pretty much the leader of the popular kids. And as long as I was with him, I was popular too. I’ve never had that much power before, and I wanted that power. I'd have done anything to keep that power. And I did.” He murmured the final words. “Marco was my best friend. I needed him. But I sacrificed what I really needed for what I wanted, and I lost everything in the end.” He turned to me, laying his hands on my shoulders, his eyes pleading.

“Armin, I'm begging you… don't do what I did. Don't give up what you need for what you want. I don't want you to go through what I had to.”

“Jean…”

Before either of us could say another word, the door burst open, revealing Mikasa behind it. Her breathing was heavy, as though she had run all the way to the office. Her hair was unkempt, and her eyes puffy and bloodshot.

She made a beeline for me, grabbing my arms and looking me over. Her worried face slowly grew tranquil as she assessed my physical state.

“Who did this to you?” Her voice was a dangerous monotone.

“It… it doesn't matter…”

“Who. Did this.” Sharper this time.

I gulped. “Tobias.”

“I thought so.” She stood up straight, turning on her heel back towards the door.

“I'll kill him.” She started to march away. “I will strangle every last drop of life out of his body.”

“Mikasa, no!” Jean and I both spoke at once; I couldn't do much moving, with my broken leg, but Jean caught up with her and grabbed her arm; she punched him in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. 

“Don't try and stop me,” Mikasa said slowly, dangerously.

“Mikasa, you can’t!” Jean’s voice was raspy now.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“If you attack Tobias right now, you’ll just end up suspended! You can’t take care of Armin if you’re not in school with him!”

“Yet Tobias will get a pass?!”

“No.” He let out a small cough. “You can report him, let the dean know what he did. But if you just show up out of nowhere and beat him up, they’ll consider it assault.” He grimaced before continuing. “Just… just calm down right now. It’s not like kicking the crap out of Tobias will fix Armin’s leg, anyway.”

His statements seemed to give Mikasa pause. Her eyes widened as she regarded him. Finally she sighed, lowered her head for a moment, and then turned to me.

“What happened to you all this time, Armin? Why have you been avoiding us?” Her voice was a low and dangerous contralto, yet concern still lined it.

“Because… it's because…” I repeated the story of what happened with my father once more. 

“And you couldn't have talked to me about that? Why the hell couldn't you just tell me what happened in the first place?!”

“I thought… I thought maybe you and Jean were going to get mad at me… because I didn't stand up for myself. So I thought that you would want to replace me, because you'd think that I was going to end up destroying the band--”

I stopped at the look on Mikasa's face. Pained and broken.

“You didn't trust me?”

“Yes!” _Is that really true?_ “No…” I buried my face in my hands. “It's complicated.”

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. I raised my head to meet Mikasa's eyes. 

“What have I done? Have I done anything to hurt you?”

“N-no, not at all…”

“Then why? Why, after five years, do you still not trust me?!” With every word, her vocal volume escalated. “All I’ve ever done was protect you, support you, and all you do is push me away! What do I have to do to make you understand? What the hell does it take?!”

I had seen Mikasa angry before. Under most circumstances, it was not pretty in the slightest. But this time, it was as if a fire had been lit inside of her, blazing everything in its path.

“What do you want from me, huh?! You want me to die for you? Fine, it's done, I’ll die for you in a heartbeat, but I don't think that will even be enough for you. What is it going to take to prove I’m here for you?! Why do you keep locking yourself away?!” She grabbed my shoulders. “How could you keep doing this to us-- to me?! Why can't you value yourself more?! Why can't you value _me_ more?!”

“It's not like that! I do value you! That's why I don't understand why you stay around me! I know our band means as much to you as it does to me, but you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to.” I cast my eyes to the floor. “I’d understand… if you wanted to replace me… even if you changed the band’s name afterwards… I just don't want you to keep sticking around me when you could be around someone better… someone who isn't as much of a burden...”

After a pause, Mikasa gently lifted my face back up…

And slapped me as hard as she could.

“Is that what you think this is about? Some stupid band? You think I stay friends with you because of a band?!” Now she sounded not only angry, but affronted. “I’m friends with you, Armin! You, not the damn band! You think if something happened to this band, I would stop being friends with you?! If that's what it takes to prove I care about you, then I hope this fucking band goes under tonight! I hope we never play another show again! I hope… I hope...”

Her rant stopped right there. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with sobs. I watched her, still too stunned by her words to do or say anything.

After a while, I slid gingerly off the bench and limped towards Mikasa. I didn't feel particularly confident about kneeling, so I simply placed a hand on top of her head.  
“I… I'm sorry. I didn't think--”

“Yeah, you're damn right about that,” she said sardonically, glaring up at me.

What else could I say? She was right. The sentence was over right there. 

“Sorry.”

 

Mikasa composed herself and finally rose after some time. She wrapped one of my arms around her shoulders, her own behind my back to brace me. “Miss Nifa, I'm taking Armin to the hospital.”

“I would rather he stay here. Suppose you run into those boys again?”

“They won't hurt him with me around. They know their place.” Her voice conveyed neither bragging nor a threat, but a promise.

“Are you sure you can keep him safe?”

“I’m sure. He’ll be fine.”

The nurse sighed. “All right. But if anything happens, you bring him right back here.”

“I will.” She turned me around and started to walk me out.

Jean wrapped my free arm around his shoulders. “I’ll come with you,” he announced.

Her mouth briefly twitched upwards at his statement. “Thank you. But I can carry him myself. There’s no reason for you to follow me. Go back to class.”

“He’s my friend too,” Jean said, his voice stern. “I’m coming.”

She turned to Jean, fixing him with a stern gaze. It softened after a few moments when Jean continued to stare into her eyes, not backing down.

“Help me walk him out then,” she said. “I’m going to call a cab.”

So it was that I limped down the hallways on my way to the school’s exit, supported by my two bandmates.

No.

My two _friends_.

They were escorting me to the hospital themselves. They didn’t have to do that. They didn’t have to, and yet here they were, taking the time out of their day to make sure I was safe, making sure I was okay… 

All this time, I had managed to convince myself that I was completely alone. That no one in my life cared about me, or ever would. It was always so much safer-- even somehow comforting-- to think that everyone thought that I was nothing but a waste of existence.

However, in this moment, right now, I finally realized it.

I was _never_ alone.

“Armin? What’s the matter?” Jean asked me, as I had begun to cry.

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about everything.”

Mikasa raked my scalp comfortingly with her fingertips. “You're forgiven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write you don't even know. >_< Even now I still have mixed feelings about it, but I can't think of anything to change. All I can do now is hope you guys like it. ^_^
> 
> Title is from Fire (Aim Your Arrows High) by VersaEmerge.


	36. First You Lose Trust, Then You Feel Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I finally got this chapter done! \^o^/
> 
> I know I haven't told you all in a while, so let me let you know: thank you, thank you, thank you for all the support thus far. This fic has been a long journey, but I'm glad I could take it with all of you. <3
> 
> No more mushy sentimental stuff, story time!

The three of us sat in the emergency room’s waiting area after Mikasa checked me in. I was sitting to Mikasa’s left, Jean to her right. I stared at my knees, still clutching the ice pack from earlier to my side. We sat there in silence, none of us in any hurry to speak.

I found myself reflecting once more on the past two weeks. In particular, I thought of the way I had been treating Mikasa. The last time I had even spoken to her was at the start of my punishment. I had locked her out of the house with the chain lock, and when she banged on the door and asked to know what was wrong, I had told her to go away, and slammed the sliver of an opening shut in her face.

Even after that, she continued to wait for me. She would knock on the door and beg me to open it. She would ask through the door if I was okay. I never answered her.

I began to wonder why she kept coming after me. Anybody else would have given up on me by now. The way I acted, she should have walked away a long time ago. She should have just thrown up her hands and abandoned her efforts.

Was I really worth that much to her?

I further started to question my own motives. Why did I ever doubt her friendship? I always knew she had my back… what in the world would ever make me think otherwise?

Perhaps because it weighed on me how little I deserved to have her in my life. 

Then shouldn’t I have worked on becoming a better person for her?

That was what I was trying to do, wasn’t it? Every day, every night, every show we played, I pushed myself each time to be better than I was the last time. Not only on stage, but offstage as well, with my friends.

Yet, the first chance I got, I shut my heart away, kept my friends in the dark, lashed out at the man I loved… after everything we had been through together, I still refused to trust them.

The reality hit me then: I had learned nothing.

Even after watching my dreams come true, learning new things about the people in my band, experiencing things I never would have on my own, I still learned absolutely nothing. I still kept my best friend at arm’s length, let my own insecurity get the better of me… and came a hair’s breadth from driving her away.

I knew that what I should have been doing is apologizing like I never have before… but how? I already said I was sorry, didn't I? What else could I possibly say?

_Did you try thanking her?_

… 

Actually, no. 

No, I did not. 

I was always so busy feeling unworthy of her friendship that I never stopped to think about how much I appreciated it. Or maybe I never took the time to appreciate it at all. Maybe all those times I worried myself to death over losing her, I was paradoxically taking her for granted. 

Maybe it was because I never learned to be a good friend.

Maybe that's what love really is. Learning to be a good friend.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Mikasa.

“Hmm?” Mikasa regarded me with calm curiosity.

“Thanks for putting up with me all this time. It really means a lot to me.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the words, before she turned away once more, facing straight ahead of her. “I wasn't ‘putting up’ with you. ‘Putting up’ with you implies that I just stuck around begrudgingly. I stuck around because I care about you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her words were reassuring and heartbreaking all at once. They reminded me just how wrong I had been all this time.  
It became clear to me… perhaps I was wrong about everyone. About Mikasa, about Jean… 

About Eren.

Thinking of Eren made my heart flutter, in a good and a bad way. I started to remember the detestable way I had treated him. I had attacked him, torn him down, for no other reason than my own insecurity and fear.

Just as I had always been told bullies do.

I had become the very person I had sworn I would never be.

I wrapped my arms around myself, avoiding putting too much pressure into it.

I had a lot to apologize for.

I opened my mouth once more, to ask Mikasa about Eren, but before I could speak, my name was called to go into the emergency ward.

Once I had arrived and was put into a bed, the doctor performed an X-ray on my torso, promising to return soon with the results. I took my opportunity while I waited.

“Mikasa…” She looked up in acknowledgement. “Have you seen Eren lately? I need to talk to him.”

The change was instantaneous. It was as though I had completely broken her with that single statement. She stared at me, eyes wide, expression shattered. Her breathing quickened into short, gasping sobs, and tears escaped the corners of her eyes, before she buried her face in her hands. Jean, hesitant at first, eventually pulled her close to him slowly. When she offered no resistance, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She lowered her hands from her face and returned the gesture.

“Mikasa. It’s okay. We’ll find him.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone. He’s left me again…”

“Hey, he can’t have gone that far. New York is a big place, but he doesn’t have that many haunts.” He pulled her away enough to smile down at her. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s probably just sulking somewhere.”

“But… why would he walk out on me again? Why do people keep abandoning me? Have I done something wrong?” She turned back to me. “Why did you leave me?”

I tried to give her an answer, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a strained stutter. I coughed and tried again. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

She lowered her head again. “Don’t leave me again,” she murmured. “I won’t do it anymore…”

“Mikasa, you didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice pleading with her to listen. “This is my fault… all of this is my fault…”

“Can you guys not play blame volleyball right now?” Jean interjected. “Look… Armin, you’re all busted up, Mikasa, you’re an emotional wreck… right now, the only one to blame is Eren for running off like a moron and not telling anybody where the heck he is.”

A jolt ran through my body as I finally processed what Jean was talking about. “Eren… ran away?”

“Yeah, he’s been missing for days now. Just stopped showing up for practice one day, and wouldn’t call either of us.”

“I tried to call his cell phone a million times,” Mikasa said. “He only picked up once. He told me he was sorry and that he was a terrible brother and a terrible son, and then he hung up.”

“He disappeared about a week after you started ghosting us, in fact.” Jean narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Did you guys concoct some sort of conspiracy to screw us up?”

I felt fortunate that I was able to shake my head, because the rest of me was completely paralyzed. Eren was gone… how could that be? Why would he run away from everybody?

Jean had said that Eren disappeared a week after I did… was it because of what I said to him? No… it couldn’t have been, because what was that comment about him being a terrible brother and son? Did my words just exacerbate something he was already going through?

What could he be doing out there…?

Without thinking, I started groping around for my cell phone. There were two things I didn’t take into account.

Number one: my cell phone was in Mikasa’s pocket. The doctor made me take it out in order to perform the X-ray, as it may have interfered with the signal.

Number two: twisting around made my sides hurt.

I only remembered the first thing after experiencing the second.

Mikasa stood up and put her hands on my shoulders. “Stop moving. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Mikasa,” I began, straining, “my phone…”

“You shouldn’t try to speak too much. It might aggravate your injury.” She gently pushed me back down into the bed. 

“We tried calling Connie and Sasha already, if that’s where you were going.” Jean said. “They don’t know where he is either.”

“Call Ymir,” I said. “They’re… close to each other… she’ll probably… know where he is.”

“You have her number?” I nodded.

Mikasa began fishing in the pockets of her cargo pants for my phone, but before she could retrieve it, the doctor returned.

“Whatever those boys you were fighting did to you, you were quite fortunate as far as injuries go. You’ve got some bruising in your ribs, and your femur is pretty badly cracked, but both of those things should clear up on their own. We just need to brace your torso and your leg, and you’ll be free to go. I’ll write you a prescription for a pair of crutches, as well.”

“Thank you,” I said. I just wished they didn’t have to bill my father’s insurance for this.

“The nurse will be right back with your dressings.” He exited the room.

“I’ll call Ymir when we get back home,” Mikasa announced. “It’ll be easier to talk to her there. You’re staying at my place for the night.”

“Mikasa, no. You can leave and call her if you need to, I can get home by myself…”

“You don’t have any crutches yet. There’s no way you’ll be able to get back on your own without them.”

“I can help him, if you need me to,” Jean offered.

“I want to be there with him. I want to make sure he’s safe.”

“I’ll be fine with Jean,” I protested. “You should check up on Eren first, he’s more important, isn’t he?”

The look Mikasa gave me then was some mixture of melancholy and irritation.

“Stop trying to make me choose between the two of you. You’re like my brother, too.”

 

We got out of the hospital after about a couple of hours, when the nurse wrapped my leg in a cast and wound bandages around my chest. Mikasa and Jean helped me get on the train, and home when we got off. 

Mikasa was as good as her word: no sooner had she gotten me through the door and deposited me into a chair, she was already fishing my cell phone out of her pocket. She scrolled frantically until she found Ymir’s number, and pressed to dial it.

Ymir picked up on the third ring. “Speak of the devil. I was just wondering if your punk ass would call or show your face.” Mikasa must have put the phone on speaker, for me to be able to hear her. She sounded none too pleased.

“This is Mikasa,” the drummer announced.

“Eren’s sister?”

“Yes. Armin and Jean are here too, though; they can both hear you. Could you tell us if you’ve seen Eren recently?” She was clearly trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“Blondie’s there too, huh? Good, I have a few words for him. First, to answer your question… I saw him like an hour ago. He’s crashing at my place. If you listen, he’s got music playing.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t even known I was holding. Mikasa murmured, “Oh thank god.” Jean’s mouth curled into a small, relieved smile. I decided to listen, and I did, in fact, catch Beck’s song Loser in the background.

“Now your little friend can answer my question, since he can hear me.” Her voice was cold and sharp. “What the hell did you do to him? He’s been a wreck since the day we brought him here.”

I rose, nearly falling over, before Jean caught me, and I approached the phone with his help. “I… is he okay now?”

“Right now, yeah, more or less. He got thrashed and passed out on the couch. He seems to be under the impression that everyone he knows hates him… particularly you. Now _what did you do?_ ”

I took a breath and let it out. Time to tell the truth. “We… we got into a fight. I was angry and insecure, and I… I told him…” I forced myself to continue. “I told him I wished I would have let him die the day we met.”

Silence pierced the air. Mikasa’s eyes were narrowed, though it didn’t look like full-on rage. Jean just looked disappointed.

“You said _what?_ ” Ymir's growl broke the silence.

“I didn’t mean a word of it, I swear. I was just self-absorbed and taking out my problems on everybody else instead of actually talking to someone. I… I want to apologize. If he’ll give me the chance. If _you’ll_ give me the chance. Please.”

“How do I know you won’t just make it worse? How do I know you won't pull this again?”

“I’m not sure how I can prove that. All I have is my word. But I promise you, with everything I have, I’m not going to hurt him again. I never wanted to in the first place. I… I love him.”

More silence. The line was nearly dead. I thought that Ymir had perhaps hung up the phone.

Finally a sigh sounded on the other end. “Damn you for sounding sincere. Alright. Against my better judgement, come over here tomorrow. I’ll watch him and keep him sober until you get here. Well, he’ll probably wake up with a hangover anyway, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with gratitude.

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” She hung up then. Mikasa handed me my phone back, and I looked into her eyes. I knew just how much I had screwed up, and I knew that the both of them might have a few things to say to me.

I was prepared for all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this has been the least dreadful chapter since Chapter 29, I apologize. There were things in my head and it was screwing with my writing. So again, thanks so much for sticking around and putting up with my probably bad writing. ^^"
> 
> Also, I may or may not insert another chapter after Chapter 29. I don't really know. Be on the lookout in case I do.
> 
> Title is a totally bastardized lyric from First by Cold War Kids.

**Author's Note:**

> Heh, I meant to put an endnote here.
> 
> The work itself is named after the album #TotalAnarchyoftheHeart by Freelance Romantic. Now go thee forth and checketh them out.


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